


An Eye for the Future

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, M/M, Psychic Jensen, Tech Guru Jared, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: Jensen has spent the last decade living with visions of the future. He's saved the neighbor's kid falling off a balcony, an old purple-haired lady walking into a car accident, and a landscaper from losing a limb from a chainsaw. He's so accustomed to it that it's just a nuisance at this point.What's he's not used to are his newest visions starring international tech guru Jared Padalecki. And he's certainly not used to being shot at, cooped up in a cabin alone with the guy, or returning to a forgotten past that may bring him love in the future. All three happen over the course of one week that drudges up the truth behind his visions and offers a second chance to save Jared.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollarformyname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollarformyname/gifts).



> Written for [2016 J2 Reversebang]() for [dollarformyname's](http://dollarformyname.livejournal.com/) prompt:
> 
> **View her amazing art post[HERE](http://dollarformyname.livejournal.com/83965.html)**

Jensen can’t focus at work. It’s not a new situation, not by a long shot. All he does is stare at Excel spreadsheets while cursing numbers that make his eyes cross. But it’s a job, and it’s one he’s pretty good at. Crunching data, crafting formulas so that business make sense to everyone above him on the corporate ladder. At the same time, it manages to keep him out of the public eye of the sales and delivery teams. 

It’s dull yet easy for his brain to work it out, then pass onto the next layer of management so they can use it. He doesn’t even hate the staring at screens all day long, because at least they’re a certain fact to him. 

All the other stuff swirling around in his mind when he’s not totally focused on a computer screen is another matter. 

Like being pulled into a meeting Friday afternoon, bored to death watching the sales team do their best to transfer his numbers into PowerPoint slides for a big presentation the next Monday. He shouldn’t have to be here. He doesn’t do presentations and graphics. He does numbers. Besides, he hates being in this corner conference room with the floor to ceiling windows that are far too much a distraction for him. 

Today’s additional distraction comes in the form of the landscaping crew outside. A worker is climbing a tree, about three stories off the ground with picks on his feet to help him up easily. Jensen watches with an annoyed interest … he knows something will happen, some uncertain danger that he’ll see just moments before it occurs. Or maybe it’ll be the lady with the hedge trimmers, going to work on the large bushes dotting the massive front lawn he drives by every morning and night on his way in and out of work.

He winces with the woman’s every careless move of the trimmers, and waits for the vision of her swinging wide and hitting the guy just behind her who’s trimming the grass along the sidewalk's edge. Or maybe she’ll drop the equipment on her foot. Or worse, chop off her own arm. 

Then it comes … that hazy feeling in his brain. Lightheaded, warm waves flowing over the top of his scalp. The man in the tree cuts a relatively short yet thick branch from above, and when it separates from the trunk, it spins wildly. The straps that circle the tree and the worker to keep him in place became a perfect net to catch the branch, which unsteadies him, causing him to the ground with a high-pitched scream.

“Jensen?” Misha calls out. 

“You with us?” Alaina asks next, and Jensen finds the team of five professionals staring at him. 

He blinks at them then quickly turns towards the windows to find the grounds crew all intact in their assigned places. That damned branch is in place, but the crew member is yanking his chainsaw out of the rut he’s made then goes back in, arms and shoulders shaking as he fights against the bark. 

“What about the spring numbers?” Misha asks. 

Jensen continues to watch the scene while answering on automatic. “You said you only needed fall and winter.”

Alaina clears her throat. “We should really show year to date if possible.”

“Those are the big numbers,” he replies, wincing when the chainsaw gets stuck again. The worker takes a short break, wipes his arm over his face before grabbing the handle of his equipment again. “Um, I think I have to …”

Misha comes closer and looks out the window for whatever has Jensen’s attention. “You have to what?” 

The vision replays itself, this time the break of the branch is a loud, threatening crack just before it trips into the straps. Jensen has learned over time that the visions grant him a few warnings before they’re a reality. Typically, he is allowed a handful of visions, but he’s not about test it any time soon. 

“What’s going on out there?” Alaina complains as she comes over, joined with the rest of the team. 

Now they’re all distracted enough that Jensen can hurry out of the room. He takes the west hallway to the stairs and jumps down to the next landing before spinning to the next set of steps. He punches through the fire door hard enough that it smacks the side of the pristine white building, then he runs to the offensive tree. 

“Hey! Stop! Don’t do that!” Jensen shouts up at the worker, whose chainsaw is far too loud to be heard over. “I said stop doing that! You’re gonna get hurt!” 

The guy finally looks down and shakes his head, motioning to the headset protecting his own hearing, then gets right back to cutting that stupid branch. 

Jensen’s lived through at least two dozen moments just like this … trying his damnedest to stop injuries and accidents, but never really getting through to anyone. And just like most of those incidents, he has to find an alternate solution for preventing broken bones or deep cuts too close to internal organs. 

The universe grants Jensen a full two seconds to decide what to do. When he hears that heartbreaking crack, he looks up, swears to himself, and takes a deep breath. It’s not slow motion like in the movies, but a sped up version of events when the guy slips out of the straps after being knocked around by the branch and falls. His arms pinwheel around and Jensen’s thankful the crew member is relatively small, maybe half a foot shorter than his own height and incredibly lean. He thinks maybe it won’t hurt too much to try to catch him. But of course that’s not what happens. Instead, the guy elbows Jensen when they touch, then pins Jensen to the ground as they land helplessly. 

He groans in pain before the scene breaks into chaos with the rest of the landscaping crew running to them.

Jensen shifts on the medical bench when Danneel whips the curtain back and stares at him. He frowns like a petulant child because this isn’t the first time she’s had to pick up him at the emergency room. Or the second, or fourth. It’s just routine at this point.

“What was it this time? A little old lady locked out of her house?”

“No,” he answers brusquely, cradling his left arm with his right hand. It’s sore as hell and the skin is all scraped up, but her judgmental look is possibly more painful. 

“A kitten in a tree?”

Jensen rolls his eyes, trying to ignore that she’s not too far off with the tree. 

“Mr. Ackles!” the petite doctor declares as she joins them. She takes a few seconds to look at Danneel then clears her throat. “Hi,” she redirects to Danneel. “I’m Dr. Cortese, and I’m happy to say your husband is a really lucky guy.”

“She’s not – ” Jensen says just as Danneel flutters her pretty little lashes at the doctor. 

“We’re not married. We’re gay.”

The room falls silent and Jensen glares at Danneel for being so bold to declare it loudly in the ER. 

Dr. Cortese takes a moment to stare at his chart, seeming to collect herself before granting Danneel a soft smile. “Okay then. Well, Mr. Ackles, you’re still very lucky. Not a single broken bone.”

This is also routine: doctors truly excited to report he’s still in one complete piece, declaring him lucky, and warning him to watch out next time or else it could’ve been worse. He doesn’t question it, not anymore. Just waits for the prescription of pain pills to soothe the aches of playing hero and plans on a night of soft, dreamy euphoria thanks to hydrocodone or darvocet. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it?” Dr. Cortese exclaims with a bright cheer. “But I guess that’s your payment for being such a good Samaritan.”

Danneel fakes gagging at the doctor’s peachy disposition and Jensen does his best not to laugh. Especially when Dr. Cortese looks over her shoulder to find Danneel suddenly beaming right back at her. “He is such a _good_ Samaritan, yes,” Danneel insists with her own fake joy. 

Dr. Cortese’s cheeks go pink as she turns back to Jensen with her head down to read the chart. Danneel now flips her hair over her shoulder as she checks the doctor out from head to toe with a quick flit of her eyebrows, and Jensen clears his throat to get this over with as soon as possible. 

“So, I’m good to go?” he suggests. 

“I don’t have any reason to keep you here much longer.” She smiles carefully and tucks the chart against her chest as she tips her head to consider him. “But I do notice you have a bit of a lengthy rap sheet here. A lot of accidents?”

Danneel snorts and Jensen lifts his head up against the scrutiny of both women. “I guess I’m kinda clumsy.”

“Kinda?” she asks slowly as Danneel repeats it with an eye roll. 

The women share a look and Jensen wants to throw up from the flirty glances being tossed around. Or maybe it’s the deep throb in his elbow, radiating up to his shoulder. His bones don’t break, never have in the history of these premonitions, but it doesn’t mean they don’t hurt like hell. 

Jensen clears his throat for what seems like the twentieth time since Danneel showed up. “So, Doc? Am I released then?”

“Yeah, I suppose you are. Still having pain? One to ten?”

“About a seven.”

She makes a thoughtful noise. “Okay, well, I don’t feel super comfortable giving you anything too strong. But I’ll get you a prescription for some Tylenol with codeine to ease the pain.”

The doctor excuses herself to wrap up his paperwork and Danneel rushes to his side. “Check out the hot doc!” she fake whispers, punching his shoulder. The bad one. 

“Christ, Danni!”

She’s ashamed immediately then frowns. “Sorry! How would I know?”

He huffs while trying to motion his to his arm. “I’m fucking holding it.”

“Okay, yeah, sorry. I’m just … dude, that girl is fly.”

“Don’t say fly.”

“But she is! Mmm, what I’d do with that lil body.”

“Mr. Ackles,” Dr. Cortese says as she re-enters, glancing quickly at Danneel, likely having heard their conversation. “Here is your prescription and your release papers. I’d suggest lots of ice, staying up in bed to keep pressure off your arm, and to be very responsible with your pills.”

He’s had this very lecture before, often worse. It’s the very reason he now insists ambulances bring him across town to a different hospital. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes with the prescription then is left staring at the doctor’s back when she turns to Danneel. 

“And here is my number. For staying up in bed as well.”

Jensen sighs, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling. He doesn’t move until he can tell the doctor has left and Danneel has returned to the pain in the ass roommate she’s always been.

“Alright, let’s go Sammy.”

“What?” he complains as she helps him off the bench and guides him out of the curtained area. 

“Sammy … Samaritan. You’re just _so good_.”

“Shut up.”

“So what happened this time?”

He grumbles to himself, then to her. “I’m not telling you.”

Her voice nearly shrieks when she stops them in place. “Why not?”

“Because you hit on my doctor while I was injured.”

“Well, you weren’t gonna hit on her.”

Jensen picks back up the pace to head out of the hospital and into the parking lot. “Not the point. You were totally distracting her.”

“I can’t help it that I’m a lady magnet,” Danneel preens as she helps him into the passenger side of her SUV. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Before she starts the car, she eyes him carefully. “So, really, what happened this time?”

Jensen stares out the front windshield as he remembers the heavy load that crushed him to the ground and how his body creaked through the pain, despite keeping its relative shape. He lowers his voice to tell her. He also prepares for her laughter, just like always, and accepts her loving harassment in trade for her staying in with him and playing nurse tonight. 

“Oh, hon,” she chuckles, even while giving him such a loving look. “You are cursed. Or blessed. I can’t tell anymore.”

Jensen never believed in magic. Not even as a kid when his uncle would pull a quarter from his ear. And he never believed in God or angels or anything heavenly and spiritual. He was too skeptical to accept any belief in something that wasn’t proven by numbers, like physics and statistics. Which is what his parents always said made him the perfect fit for spending most of his teenage years away at a math and science academy.

Which also means that once the visions became a regular part of his life, he refused to believe they really meant anything. In the beginning, he ignored them and then witnessed a number of accidents he’d rather not relive, like baseball players sliding poorly into second base and twisting their knee so badly the joint nearly spun itself 180 degrees. 

He does thank … something, someone … that the visions are never deadly. Just hapless accidents that he’s able to curb from being more severe than his mind makes him witness. 

So, when he’s up in the middle of the night a few days after his recent trip to the hospital and finds himself on the floor of his hallway with nothing but bright lights blinding his vision, he knows there’s something wrong. 

There’s no warning to the sight … no fuzziness or ringing in his ears. There’s just a shocking glare of a spotlight whiting out the end of his hallway where the bathroom should be. The very room he was heading for, but is now gone thanks to the bright lights burning before him. A sharp pain flares at the side of his skull and he becomes dizzy, finally falling to the ground. He cries out with the pain of his still-bum shoulder taking most of his weight as he brings his other arm up to shield against the light that draws closer and closer despite his inability to move. 

He faintly hears his name being called and he tries to answer. The pain in his skull throbs and pinches in his ears. He thinks the voice calling for him is familiar, but it’s not Danneel. It’s a man’s voice repeating his name just before a loud bang sounds and the light dissipates. 

Jensen huddles down to the floor, trying to turn away from the hallway and shuffle back to his room. He cries out with the pain in his head, more in his shoulder as he moves, and even further down in his legs. His name is heard again with more urgency than just a few seconds ago, and now there are arms coming beneath his shoulders to pull him up. 

“Jen! Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

This voice is Danneel, surely, as are her thin fingers touching his face, neck, chest. He tries to tell her what all he’s just seen, but just mumbles random parts … _Lights. Pain. Head. Gun._

The last word gets her more frantic and then she’s calling out for him again. Her voice is demanding, joined by another woman’s voice filled with worry.

“What happened? Oh god, okay, get him down on his back. Hold his arms down.”

There’s another light in his eyes, but now he can tell it’s small and focused. Then another face hovering over him and ice cold fingers holding his eye lids open before checking his pulse. The hall lights come on and now he can see it’s Dr. Cortese with a pen light in her mouth as she checks his vitals. 

She talks to him, but the penlight muffles all her words and he blinks up at her. Danneel snaps it out of her mouth, causing the doctor to flinch then offer a soft, “Thank you,” with an equally soft smile. 

Jensen keeps on blinking at the scene now coming together. Danneel and Dr. Cortese. Danneel had a date tonight and she’s only coming back in the middle of the night with the doctor in tow. For some unearthly reason, Jensen feels embarrassed for breaking up what was likely to be a _very good_ evening by whatever the fuck his issue is. 

“Can you see? How many fingers am I holding up?”

The hall light is creating a halo around the doctor’s head and his breathing stalls as he wonders if she has something to do with whatever is happening. Maybe she’s some kind of angel brought into his life to manage his visions. 

“Have you taken anything tonight?” She turns to Danneel to ask, “What drugs is he taking?”

“Drugs? No!” Danneel insists. “Just the Tylenol you gave him.”

“He’s on _something_!”

“Lights,” Jensen says, but it’s all gargled by his current state of being disoriented and overcome by this insane headache. 

Danneel shuts off the hall light and they’re back to pitch black, except for the fact that Jensen still sees rings of lights behind his eyelids. She reaches for his face, holding carefully as she runs her thumbs over his cheeks and ears. “Are you okay?”

His head is heavy and he lets Danneel take the weight of it in her hands. He can barely think straight let alone see straight when he attempts to open his eyes, so he keeps them shut. “There were lights.”

“Another vision?”

“Different.”

“A vision?” Dr. Cortese asks. Jensen can just barely manage to keep an eye open enough to see her wary look and Danneel’s nervous lip bite. 

“It’s a long story,” Danneel offers in lieu of a real answer. 

“Does this long story have anything to do with Jensen showing up in my ER with nary a broken bone and a hampering for pain meds?”

“I’ll make some coffee.”

Just the word soothes Jensen enough to slightly smile. “Coffee,” he murmurs. 

Danneel lightly pats his cheek. “Yes, of course. Coffee for you.” She looks at Dr. Cortese. “Coffee beans are his only real addiction. I promise.”

“Mmm, yes,” he hums, “coffee beans.”

“Okay, mister, we’re getting you to the couch.”

He mentally wishes them luck with that given that he feels like his body is a mess of tissue that won’t move, no matter how much he yells at his muscles to do _something_. 

They drag him into the living room and struggle to get him onto the couch without nearly dropping him on his head, which still intensely throbs. And flashes white hot lights when he attempts to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds. 

Just like the night they first met Dr. Cortese, Danneel babies him. This time it’s with a soft pillow behind his head and a cool washcloth across his forehead. He can hear the women exchange words, but only lasts long enough to hear Danneel say, “he’s not crazy, but … he sees accidents before they happen.”

“Like a psychic?”

Jensen wants to argue wholeheartedly that he’s not _that_. Just like he did the first time he told Danneel what was happening. Instead, he decides to accept more pain meds from Danneel and drift off into sleep while she explains the whole thing to her date.

On Monday, Jensen’s back at work with the comfort of Excel to keep his mind off the new visions taking over. The first blare of light had been the most traumatic, shocking in its immediacy and strength. He figures that the handful of incidents since then have been just as bad, if not worse, putting him in bed for hours afterward. At least he now can anticipate the intensity of the glares aimed at him. 

Okay, so maybe Excel isn’t distracting him all that well, because he’s thinking about what all he’s been seeing as the visions become more vivid each time. 

A tall man, very tall, fit, broad shoulders, long legs. Jensen thinks maybe the man is quite attractive and confident in the way he stands with his hips canted and one hand resting comfortably on his side. The other holds something up as he boldly speaks to excitable cheers. Jensen can never make out the words, and can’t see any faces. Not yet. All he perceives are outlines and a few shadows on the man’s face to make out the long, slim nose, waving hair, and enigmatic smile that flashes for the people behind the other voices screaming and hollering with barely contained eagerness. 

As he thinks more about the images, they come into view joined by the stressful pressure of a headache building along his temples and radiating over the top of his head. He rests an elbow on the right side of his L-shaped desk and cradles his face in his hands. His other hand grips tightly around the arm rest of his chair. Even with his eyes closed, he can see the light growing around him. 

“Goddamit,” he curses between clenched teeth. His body rattles with the pain as well as the anxiety of another oncoming incident. “No, no, no, no, stop,” he rambles on before biting on his lower lip, hard enough to send another jolt of pain across his face. 

The image builds in his mind yet the face is still shrouded by the fogginess of the entire scene. It’s a large theater; a high stage at the apex of the room, and colored lights dance across the walls and ceiling as the man speaks to the eager audience. The man’s voice booms through speakers and lights swirl around and people chant, yet Jensen can’t focus on any one thing to make out what’s happening. What it all means. What he has to do. 

He hears his name, over and over again, in all sorts of tones – concern, confusion, even awe. Then an explosive pop shocks him out of the vision and he’s blinking away the bright rings of light to Alaina and Misha standing before him. Alaina’s wringing her hands with worry creasing her smooth face, while Misha tips his head as if mentally investigating the whole thing. 

“You okay? Jensen?” 

That one is Alaina, he knows as much, but he can’t keep his head up to look at her. He can’t even open his mouth to answer. He leans forward with his head between his legs to ease the dizziness overtaking him, but it’s no use. He hears is Misha calling for help, and next he feels is the floor.

Jensen’s back in the ER with the curtains pulled around his little space. This time, he’s resting on a bed with an IV in his left arm and a brace around his right wrist. He feels sleepy as he tries to look around, slow to move as he inspects his surroundings and his injuries. Not much more than his arms, far as he can tell, but he still feels like he was hit by a truck. His whole body is sore and hard to move no matter how forcefully he orders his little toe to wiggle. 

The curtain whips open and closed, and he’s facing Dr. Cortese, looking far less as engaging as the last two times they faced each other. 

Jensen tries to talk, but his throat is thick and dry. He clears his throat and attempts to joke, “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Not that fancy,” she replies with one eyebrow raised high. The rest of her body language says she’s not happy to see him. At all. “Once I saw your name, I stole your chart.”

“ _Stole?_ Danni know she’s dating such a rebel?” Jensen chuckles roughly and tries to sit up. He fails so spectacularly at both and frowns at his pathetic state. “Well, shit.”

““Mr. Ackles, look—”

“You can call me Jensen.”

“I’d rather not at this time.”

His worry rises … between what these visions are all about, what they’re doing to his body to be sent to the ER again, and just what she’ll do to handle him. Ever since he met her, she’s been questioning if he’s on drugs. And no matter how much it seems she rather enjoys seeing Danneel, he’s heard that the doctor’s having a hard time believing his visions aren’t some PCP after-effect. 

Instead of tackling the real worry, however, Jensen resorts to deflecting. “I don’t mind. I mean, you’ve been in my apartment and –” 

“I’m really concerned about –”

“—you saw me in my boxers—”

“—what is happening with your health –”

“—Sleeping with my roommate after all.”

“Excuse me!” Now Dr. Cortese’s voice rises with a little bit of hysteria and shame before resorting to a tiny whisper when she comes up to his side. “Could you not talk about my … personal life while I’m working?”

He immediately shrinks back into the mattress. “Okay, yeah, I’m sorry. Defense mechanism and all.”

“Mr. Ack—Jensen, look. I’m really concerned about what is happening. This is the third time I’ve seen you in a week. Are you sure you don’t have anything going on to explain what is happening?”

Despite the annoyance that she’s likely still believing he’s on some spectacular mix of hallucinogens, he meets her stare and holds his voice steady. “I honestly have no clue what is happening to me. But I am not on any sort of drug. Aside from cetirizine, which I have been taking for –” 

“What?” Dr. Cortese asks with the oddest tone, like she thinks he’s even more messed up than she already did. 

“It’s an antihistamine and—”

“Yes, I know what it is. What the hell is up with Zyrtec?”

“I have allergies,” he admits pathetically. 

She sighs. “Yeah, I got that. But you think that could cause all of this?

“No, I don’t!” he insists hotly. “But you’re so set on thinking I’m a junkie …” With a deep breath, Jensen calms himself as best he can considering the current state of his life. “And I’m not. I’m just … I don’t know. _Special._ ”

“You’re special all right.” Dr. Cortese sighs then allows a small smile, even while looking a bit pained. “I’m just worried about what all this is.”

“You and me both, doc.”

“Genevieve. Or Gen if you like.” 

His eyebrows rise on his forehead and he swallows. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean, I’m sleeping with your roommate after all.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jensen glances away and coughs. “I’ve heard.”

“Oh. Um, okay, well.” Dr. Cortese chuckles and scratches her ear before composing herself. “Either way, I’d like you to see a neurologist.”

“I’ve seen five,” he answers, matter of fact. Because it’s true. Ever since this whole thing started soon after college, he’s been poked and prodded by scores of doctors trying to sort him out. The only relief he’s found was in a psychiatrist in his mid-twenties who at least pretended to believe him and helped him deal with the guilt he felt from all the visions leading to actual accidents. 

It was Dr. Morgan who suggested he try helping these people to at least assuage the guilt of inaction. Except now Jensen has grown irritable with the expectations that he save everyone. 

Worse yet, he’s dealing with more intense images that wrack his body with muscle and joint pain to the point that he’s down for the count for hours after they occur. 

Dr. Cortese is still talking, trying to offer a number of specialists he see, suggesting this test and that test, all while Jensen again attempts to sit up. It’s not any easier, but he’s more insistent on making it happen; that he fights through the pain and gets his legs over the side of the bed to get up. 

The doctor is sorely unimpressed with his attempt, trying to get him back into bed until she can get a hold of Danneel to pick him up. Jensen finally lets himself relax, or his body just gives out on him again, because as he’s staring at the TV in the corner with the J-Pad logo bouncing into view while advertising the industry’s newest tablet. He thinks of those white lights all over again and loud successive pops proceed the guy on stage falling. 

He thinks about guns and passes out.

Jensen surely knows what a J-Pad tablet is, but he finds himself engrossed with researching every corner of the internet to figure out what the Tri-Lab company has to do with his visions. The technology conglomerate has cornered the industry on personal electronics with hand-held devices desired around the world. Every single new iteration of a watch, phone, media player, whatever … it draws society’s eye to the front and center with hordes of shoppers clambering to get the next new J-pad item. 

He can now piece things together enough to know he’s seen that logo at the big event that is crafted in his mind. The blue, green, and white of the brand flashes over and over as he remembers those prancing strobe lights, and when he brings up a page on its wunderkind creator, Jensen swears he sees the man. 

The very man who stands atop that stage is now fully drawn on Jensen’s very own J-pad. Six and a half feet tall, chestnut hair falling in breaks to his neck, a long silhouette that highlights wide, strong shoulders, a narrow waist, and those same long legs Jensen has imagined for the last three days. 

Just beneath the humming of his brain piecing this all together, Jensen can hear Danneel fussing in the kitchen, offering up any number of excuses for what’s made his _condition_ turn for the worst. 

“Maybe you’ve hit the height of your coffee addiction? I’ve always said it was dangerous.”

Jensen keeps his eyes on his tablet while reaching for the cup on the coffee table. He’s been on the couch ever since he got home, In view for Danneel in case she needs to step in – her idea. He’s not fond of all the mother henning, but he’s grateful to be out of the ER and in his own pajamas, rather than those rough blue cotton drapes they had him in. “Does that mean you’re not making more?” Jensen asks just before taking the last few sips of his nearly cold coffee. “I’m out.”

Danneel leans against the couch to look close at his screen. “Yes, honey, you’ve been out since college. What’re you looking for?”

He swallows hard against where his mind is going then points at the portrait of Jared Padalecki. “Him.”

“He’s hot,” she offers with a smile. “You’ve always had good taste.”

“No, he’s the one,” he insists gently while turning to watch her take it in, “the one in my visions.”

Danneel watches him carefully. “The one who’s shot?” He slowly nods and she does as well, though not as sure as he is. “You’re seeing Jared Padalecki … the ultra-billionaire and creator of all things computers … being shot?”

“Yeah, that guy,” he murmurs. 

“Well, fuck, Jensen.”

“I know.”

“What’re you supposed to do with that?”

Jensen drops the tablet to his chest and sinks further into the couch. “No clue. But Genevieve says I should see a homeopathic.”

Danneel scrunches her face. “Because you’re gay?”

He sighs. “Yes, Danni. Your gay girlfriend is sending me to another gay doctor.” He rolls his eyes and shucks his head back into the pillow. “She says a more _natural approach_ could be helpful. Especially for the headaches.”

“Natural approach. Huh.”

“What? You think she’s right?”

“No,” she starts slowly, “I’m just not excited to hear my super-hot doctor girlfriend is all into woo-woo natural sciences.”

Jensen rises from the couch, fighting a new wave of nausea and dizziness. He’s still sore and groggy to move, and now he’s annoyed by his roommate. “Yes, because that’s what’s important now.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” she insists as she comes up next to him, guiding him to his room. Once he’s in bed, she takes the tablet and sits on the mattress beside him. Scrolls through a few of the stories he’s most recently tabbed to read. “So what’re you thinking then? Tweet at him? Write him a letter? How are you getting to him?”

He leans over to tap a few parts of the screen and bring up the Tri-Labs web page and its newest press release. “They’re releasing a new J-watch.”

After a few seconds of scanning the page, Danneel sighs. “Really? I just bought one.”

He glares at her and she finally looks at him when a few moments of silence have passed. 

“Sorry. I know. Not the point.”

“I think the big announcement is in Austin because it’s where the headquarters is. It’ll be like one of those grand ballroom events is what I’m seeing.”

“And he gets shot there?”

Jensen shrugs, hating that he’s already re-envisioning the whole thing, complete with a new headache. Though he’s grateful it’s a bit more manageable so he can wrap his head around the whole thing. “I think that’s what all the lights are, and all the people.”

“But why would someone go after him? Is there some kind of company conspiracy going on?”

“Not really my problem. Never has been.” He settles deeper into the pillows and stretches beneath the soft cottony weight of his comforter. It’s the most comfortable he’s felt in a few days, and he supposes finally getting a clue on what he’s been seeing helps. 

Danneel sighs and frowns at him. “This is kind of a big deal.”

Jensen sighs as well. “You’re telling me.”

“I mean, it’s a big public event. Probably lots of security. And a gun? You’ve never had anything that dangerous before.”

He thinks that her worry isn’t helping much, only ramping him back up. Instead of answer, he keeps quiet on it. He’s got it rough with all that he lives through, but he knows Danneel worries over him just as much. 

“I don’t think you should do it,” she pushes. 

Jensen blinks, considers the thought, like so many times in the past when he wanted to ignore his visions. Realistically, he could. Yet he learned long ago that the guilt was far worse than the bumps and scratches he’s accumulated over the years. “I can’t not do it, Danni.”

“Jen, it’s so dangerous and you could –”

“I’m not gonna get hurt.” He wryly smiles. “I never have before.”

Her eyes are big and wide with worry now, and he sulks a bit. “What if you seriously hurt yourself this time?”

“Is that any better than letting an innocent man die?”

“What if he’s not so innocent?” she offers. 

Jensen chuckles and shakes his head. “Like he deserves to be shot?”

“No, I’m not saying that, but …” Danneel drifts off in thought before taking a deep breath. “Okay, you’re gonna do whatever you want to do with this. But just think about it, alright? I’m worried about you.”

After truly considering her words, he agrees with her. He’s worried about himself, too. 

Still, he knows he has to do this.

The easiest part of this debacle is finding out where the event is. It’s all over the Tri-Labs web page, Facebook, and Twitter. Jensen has never been so thankful for social media … and that’s really saying something. 

Upon arriving at Austin’s main theater downtown, he suddenly regrets every decision that has brought him to this place. The crowd is deep and loud, a mass of lines weaving this way and that as technology gurus impatiently wait to get into the event. 

The upside, he figures, is he’ll go relatively unnoticed among the throngs of people. And yet, the downside is getting in when he notices a sea of folks excitedly waving vouchers as they get towards to entrance. 

“This is crazy, really fucking crazy,” he mumbles to himself. Then he hears Danneel’s voice repeating the same thing to him last night when he insisted he was going to follow through with this escapade. 

Jensen strolls around the front of the building as he wagers how he’ll get in. He turns around the corner to catch his breath and steady his building anxiety far away from the crowd. Suddenly, a fire door opens from the side of the building as a staffer in a pristine white polo shirt exits for a smoke. Jensen surges forward, nudging past the guy and ignoring the angry reaction and demands to know _what the hell, dude?_

What the hell, indeed. Because just two weeks ago, Jensen was living his carefully prescribed life of a desk job shuttered by dull grey cubicle walls and only accented by the black computer accessories he sat in front of everyday from nine to five. Nothing like this ever happens to him. Sure, he helped out Mrs. Whitley when a paper bag of groceries busted open on Smith Road and she narrowly missed breaking her hip thanks to the bumper of a seventeen year old texting … he’s done those things. A dozen times. But it was just about keeping life orderly. Not saving a life. 

He rushes through another door and ends up in the front lobby where another massive throng of excitable folks are sludging through the doors to the main theater. Tri-Labs personnel are handing out promotional packets to his right while folks hurry off to the left for the best seats, so he shuffles into a line and finds himself inside the large, excessively decorated room. 

Strobe lights spin around the space in the Tri-Labs’ colors and signs everywhere declare the brand, bright green and blues off-set with white, whimsical swirls accenting every corner. Jensen briefly thinks that it’s all too familiar, but not in a realistic manner. Something tingles at the base of his skull every time he stops to read a sign and he knows this is exactly what he’s been seeing this week.

Attendees are excitedly roaming the theater for seats, shuffling down rows to sit, and all around whipping up a bigger frenzy than anything Jensen had expected. He continues down the side row towards the stage to get a better view of the place. He glances all around and tries to pinpoint around where someone would be camping out with a gun … then his mind runs through a number of possibilities for what kind of weapon it would be. If it’s a handgun, the shooter would be closer. Something at long range would be more dangerous and account for a more serious kind of villain gunning after Padalecki. And that would put the shooter _anywhere_ in the theater.

Jensen realizes he’s completely in over his head. He has no idea who it could be or where they are now or where they’ll be when it all happens. There’s no way he can stop the shooter, but he suddenly thinks that he can stop Padalecki. But how? He considers telling security yet the type of story he’d be able to voice would likely just get him kicked out. Maybe if he got backstage, he could talk to Padalecki, tell him he’s under serious danger and needs to leave immediately. Highly unlikely to get before the man who constructed the technological revolution, and Jensen curses himself for not coming more prepared. 

Then he spots his only real chance to get up on stage, to be any closer to halting this shooting, in the form of steps at the side of the stage. He attempts to appear as nonthreatening as possible while skulking over to the steps, and waits until the nearby security guards are looking elsewhere before running up the stairs and around the curtain.

He’s immediately thrust into a group of folks in suits and skirts, all shouting at him running them over and pushing them aside as he attempts to get his bearings back and search the backstage area. Jensen chuckles awkwardly, fixes the edges of his jacket as if it was just a minor little incident, tossing apologies over his shoulder as he quickly walks deeper backstage. He seeks out the room where Padalecki would be, some sort of waiting space or green room. Instead he finds a large maintenance closet, bathroom, and office. As he closes the last door down the hallway, another small office with a cluttered desk, the music grows louder and a deep male voice ramps up the crowd. 

“Goodbye 2016! Hello future!”

Jensen rolls his eyes at the cheesiness, muttering, “Are you kidding me?” He makes his way back to stage left to check the theater. The house lights are down and the strobes are tracing patterns all across the crowd, up the walls, and over the ceiling before cycling back around again. Faceless people are spread throughout the room and Jensen’s heart is racing so hard, pounding in his chest and temples, he can’t concentrate enough to look at any one person longer than a split second before he’s searching the next section. The crowd is up on its feet, clapping in time with the hammering bass of the rock music Jensen’s witnessed of a number of reveal events just like this. He did his research there, at least, to know he has very little time left until Padalecki appears on stage to give his performance. 

The voice booms out into the room again with more painfully stupid taglines. “There is only one thing you can count on in the future … the new Tri-Labs J-Watch!”

“Seriously?” Jensen sighs. Then he sees movement across the way and at stage right is Padalecki in his trademark tattered jeans and Tri-Labs black hoodie. The wunderkind still dresses like he’s stuck in college, always has Jensen learned, and now he’s stepping out onto stage with a handful of white strobe lights gathering to welcome him. 

It’s electric when the crowd responds to just the appearance of the man walking to center stage with a bright smile. Their cheers are almost as loud as the music still pumping through the room, and Padalecki waves to the crowd with a microphone in his hand, tosses out kisses, before encouraging everyone to settle down. 

Tri-Labs personnel gather around Jensen to watch closely to the presentation, a few stepping in front of him with a side look, like they know he doesn’t belong here. Luckily, no one makes him leave, they just force their way around him so they have a better view of the proceedings. 

Jensen can’t keep up with all that’s being said on stage in between searching the audience for anything or anyone that catches his eye. It’s all so perfectly aligned with his visions while alternatively seeming to be completely out of place because he has no clue what to do next. He considers jumping out on stage to interrupt, hopefully throw the whole thing off so the shooter is confused and puts off their plan. He sidles around the people in front of him in hopes to see more out in the crowd and that’s when it hits him … the angle of a spotlight out in the theater is sharp and catches Jensen from the corner of his eye. When he looks out into it, it’s glaring, boring its light right at Jensen. He belatedly realizes that Padalecki is also nearing stage left as he continues talking. 

Jensen is too focused on the bright light that he can’t make out anything being said, or how the crowd continues to hoot and whistle at parts of Padalecki’s speech. Bringing his hand up, Jensen tries to shield the light, but feels it burning his sight, heating up his face with the intensity. Then the headache flares at his temples and he knows this is it. This is what he’s seen and felt every time. 

Jensen pushes past the handlers and staff, tossing elbows until he appears within the strobe lights. There’s a sudden gasp of the crowd, but he keeps moving. Runs at full force and only barely registers the way Jared Padalecki jumps before Jensen tackles him and keeps rolling towards stage right. Just like in his visions, gunshots have popped off and the crowd screams, messy noises of people rushing in manic fear. He hears all the scattered footsteps heading for the exits, continued shouting and shrieking, and then Jared grumbling as he tries to get out from underneath Jensen.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jared shouts while shuffling back on his ass. His long legs keep him distanced from Jensen just as Jensen rolls his eyes.

“I was saving your life.” A moment later, he huffs. “And you’re welcome.”

“Jensen,” Jared whispers. 

He snaps his head up, eyes wide and heart beating even wilder than in the moments leading up to this moment. 

“Jensen,” Jared repeats. This time it’s a bit louder, tinged with something … reverent. Excited. 

“Wait, what? How do you know—” 

“You don’t remember.” It’s said flat and with disappointment. Yet there’s a thin layer of understanding. “This is incredible. What are you doing here?”

Jensen can’t breathe, can’t think, or move. He’s frozen in place, only blinking in return when something foggy comes over him. His hearing is fuzzy and he can’t hear the next shot, only he feels it burn through his lower leg. Can’t hear his own shout, can read the pain on Jared’s face as Jared pulls them further off stage and Jensen figures this is it. The end comes soon enough because the searing pain travels up his leg and straight to his heart, which stops seconds later and he blacks out.


	2. Part Two

Coming in and out of consciousness, Jensen hears a mix of voices battling over one another for attention. He hears Padalecki among them, but can’t make out the words. He can feel hands wrapped around his arms and legs, lifting him around until he’s set on a hard carpeted floor, then an engine revs and they’re moving. A low hum makes him think of a car, but he’s further confused when there are no more voices. 

He opens his eyes only briefly, unable to handle seeing any light. He’s on his back with a car roof above, all dark interior and sleek lines. He blinks at flashes of light still seared into his brain from the spot light at the theater and barely makes out the face of Padalecki drawing nearer. Hair falls down around his cheeks and light halos his head. Jensen slowly reaches out, wondering if this is heaven, if he’s finally done with whatever journey he’s been on these last fifteen years of helping people. 

His fingers just barely touch Padalecki’s face, which is soft and warm and pink, like a cherub. It figures, Jensen thinks, that someone as rich and charitable as Jared Padalecki would be an angel. That maybe Jensen coming here was the fruitful conclusion to his own life of trying to help others remain safe. 

“Jensen,” the man says lightly, then repeats it more forcefully. “Jensen, are you with me?”

“I’m with you,” Jensen whispers, “In heaven.”

Padalecki taps Jensen’s cheek hard enough to disrupt the fever dream overtaking him. “We’re not in heaven. Listen, okay? We’re in my limo and we’re getting you to the hospital.”

The words make sense in the way that they’re sounds that Jensen has heard before, while the meaning is totally lost on him. “Did we die? Did I fail?” 

Padalecki’s brow furrows. “Fail at what?”

“The gun. Shooting you.”

“You didn’t shoot me, Jensen.”

“I saw it. You were there.” Jensen’s brain twists around what all he wants to say and he’s growing more frustrated that Padalecki can’t just understand it all. “Saving you. The gun. Shots. I was saving you.”

Now Padalecki’s hand touches with care, fingers tracing Jensen’s cheek. “I know, bud. And you did.”

“Mr. Padalecki!” the driver yells. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks with panic.

“We’re being followed.”

The limo takes a sudden right turn, yanking the back end of the vehicle around. Padalecki slips and tumbles beside Jensen, which ends up saving his life _again_ when a bullet fires through the back window and into the roof. 

“Aldis! Airport!” Padalecki shouts. 

“Flying?” Jensen asks, gathering a bit more of consciousness with the car’s frantic moves.

“We’re getting out of here. We’ll go to my cabin.” Then Padalecki smiles sweetly and Jensen wonders when this whole mess became something more romantic because he thinks about kissing that beautiful rosy mouth. “I’m gonna save you now.”

When Jensen wakes, it’s in a lushly comfortable bed with a pillow top mattress, luxury 1,000-thread count sheets, and a plush comforter wrapped around him like a burrito. The walls are dark facets of wood, along with the ceiling, truly like a log cabin from the olden days. The room is impeccably decorated with a rustic armoire and dresser set as well as a number of paintings expertly framed up on the walls. 

Jensen shifts up to sit and immediately cries in pain. His leg throbs, somewhere around his calf, keeping him from moving much more than a few inches. The pillows cushion him as he settles back into a partial seated angle. He looks to the closed door, also deeply stained wood to match the rest of the room, and while it all feels warm and comfortable, he’s a bit frantic over what parts of his memory have escaped him. 

He remembers being at the Tri-Labs event and racing around for Padalecki, remembers pushing through people to get to him, and the bright white spotlight. Suddenly he remembers being hauled into a limousine and taking away … his heartbeat quickens and he considers the possibility he’s been kidnapped. Trapped up in some faraway cabin in the middle of the woods where no one will hear him scream for help. As if Padalecki’s people consider him a threat and instead of dealing with the authorities, they’ll clean this mess up far away from civilization. 

He imagines his brain is like a complicated jigsaw puzzle with random spots left empty along with a few hundred pieces floating around to be put back into place. Only, he can’t even tell what the pieces are, or how much he’s really missing.

A door opens and closes somewhere out beyond this room and Jensen sits still, trying his hardest to listen for any further noises. 

Soft music wafts through the door, some kind of old school rhythm and blues. Maybe Motown or something. Jensen finds it oddly discomforting in the middle of being held prisoner. 

A bright humming joins the melody of a soulful, weathered voice of the song. Footsteps up and down the hallway, and a shadow appears at the slit between the door and the floor. The music fades away and Jensen twists his hands into the blankets, awaiting this next threat. Just as a drum and bass beat carry in the next song, the door swings open and Jensen screams in fright. 

Padalecki releases a high-pitched squeal as he drops a tray with a glass tumbler and plate shattering on the hard wood floor. 

“Oh Jesus,” they say in tandem while staring at one another. 

“You scared the crap out of me!” Jared insists with a high laugh. 

“You scared _me_!” Jensen shuffles a few inches back on the mattress, wincing against the pain in his leg, and carefully watches Padalecki as he bends over to use the tray as a broom and sweep the glass away from the doorway. “What the hell is going on?!”

“I _was_ bringing you breakfast, but now I’ll have to do it all over again.”

“No!” Jensen insists sharply. “What is going on … where are we? Why am I locked up in this room?”

Padalecki looks up and purses his lips in disappointment. He sets the tray against the wall and tiptoes into the room, bare feet avoiding any stray shards of glass. Jensen notes that the tall frame is clothed in a soft cotton tee, worn out Cowboys logo across the chest, and a pair of yoga pants. His hair is wet like he’s fresh from a shower, and suddenly Jensen wonders what kind of state he’s in himself.

After all, the techno wizard is dressed down while looking utterly soft and delicious. Jared Padalecki has secured the top billing of the world’s most eligible bachelors, even after coming out, and now the way he’s casually sauntering to the bed makes Jensen think of an entirely different situation where they could enjoy one another … _No!_ his brain shouts. He’s being held hostage in this place and needs to know what the fuck is happening …

The mattress bends with Padalecki’s weight as he sits beside Jensen, resting a warm hand on his knee. Apparently with comfort, just like his voice. “Jensen, you’re okay. You’re safe here.”

Jensen searches the man’s eyes for any sign of betrayal, to tell him this anything but safe, or even to remind Jensen of what all has happened since the theater. A few of those jigsaw puzzles drift into view and he remembers hearing his name on those lips after the gunshots. The way Padalecki had said his name was layered with wonder and care. 

“Where is here?” Jensen asks slowly. 

“Here is my cabin in the backwoods of Texas. You wouldn’t know the town, so I won’t bother with the goofy pronunciation.”

Now he’s smiling, and it should comfort Jensen, yet it just makes him more wary of the missing pieces of his memory. “Literally a cabin, I see,” he replies while glancing around the room. 

“My grandfather built it from the ground up.”

Jensen mumbles, “Of course he did,” to himself then gathers up a large breath to steady himself for his next question. He even shifts his leg when he realizes Padalecki’s hand is still resting on it. “Why are we here at your cabin?”

He looks at his hand and slowly pulls it back. “Yes, right, well, after you were shot, we had to—”

Terror rips through Jensen’s body, followed by a shock of pain in his leg. “I was shot?”

With a shaky smile, Padalecki nods. “Yeah, after you tackled me, the gunman kept firing and got you in the leg. My doctors assure that it mostly tore through muscle. The fibrous fuse went off without a hitch and you could be up and around in a few days. Maybe a week. In the meantime, the tramadol should manage most of your pain.”

So many more questions fire through Jensen’s mind. First, he’s terrified by the idea of a _gunman_ , inferring that it was a man with full intent and a number of bullets. Then he wonders how long he’s been out that _multiple_ doctors have seen him without him being aware of it, and what the living hell is a fibrous fuse. Not to mention whatever tramadol is, and perhaps that’s creating this whole messed up scene for him. 

Shit, maybe Dr. Cortese was onto something with the drug thing.

“Look, I know this is all a lot, and I’m sure you have a lot of questions that deserve answers.” Padalecki nods with a smile, as if encouraging Jensen to do the same. It works; Jensen blames it on whatever drugs they’ve given him. “At the same time, I have many things to ask you, but I really think you getting rest is the best prescription.”

Jensen considers a dozen different response, ranging from outrage and fight to silence and sleep. He settles a bit further right on the spectrum and nods a little. “Okay. Yeah. And … uh, thank you?”

Padalecki rubs at Jensen’s shoulder with a warm look. “You’re very welcome, Jensen.”

“How do you …” He suddenly remembers the way he tackled Padalecki to the ground, how the man immediately spoke to him like they had a long-buried history and knew each other long before any of Jensen’s life fell into being a good Samartian. He swallows against the tension that makes him fear the answer. “How do you know my name?”

Blinking, he seems to take his time to consider the response. “You don’t remember, do you? Back in our twenties? At the Air Foundation?”

Now Jensen’s jigsaw puzzle expands with even larger black holes. In his twenties, Jensen graduated college, had a string of terrible relationships that meant he floated from one guy to the next, he started his career at a distribution warehouse then later moved around to competitors before settling at his current position. From his research on Padalecki, he knows the virtuoso was already running his own social media and technology conglomerates. There’s no way their paths ever crossed. 

The movement is so tiny on Padalecki’s face, but Jensen has been watching him carefully and spots the grimace immediately. “I’ll have to find some of my books. We can look over them together when you’re better.”

As the man rises, Jensen grips his wrist to keep him in place. “No, I want to know now.”

Padalecki turns his arm to hold Jensen’s wrist in return. He gives a small squeeze and tries to smile. “No, I think you’d rather not. Not until you’re well.” He slips a few feet away then motions at the bedside cabinet. “There’s water and such here if you are still having pain. And a bell in case you need … anything else. I’ll bring you up another plate for breakfast once it’s done.”

“Wait, no, I just …” Jensen’s words hang in the now empty room when Padalecki leaves without a second glance and shuts the door behind him. His mind races through any possible situation that makes sense and he comes up empty on what type of history they would have had. 

Back in their twenties? Padalecki was surely implying some kind of connection with the word _their_ , and Air Foundation … Jensen has no idea what that could be. 

His phone, he needs his phone to search this all and find out where the hell this story starts. He reaches for his pockets and finds that he’s in pajama pants, blue and green flannel. They’re not his, and he feels a blush come over him at the idea that Padalecki undressed him from his jeans then helped him into these pants. Maybe the doctors did it … however many there were. Which is a terrifying thought as well, to wonder how many people have been standing over him while he was unconscious and unaware of whatever they did to him. 

On the nightstand is the promised glass of water and Jensen gulps it down quickly while trying to calm his rising anxiety. There! His phone! Sitting at a perfect line with the cabinet’s corner. He grabs it, whining with the pain of his sudden movement, and then curses when he finds that it’s completely dead. How long _has_ he been out that his phone’s battery is completely drained? 

Jensen slides up into a seated position despite the aches of his leg then flips the blankets back to inspect his injury. He fights against the soreness that makes itself known with painful throbs up his leg and slides the flannel pant leg up before he stares for long moments. 

A thick blue band circles his lower leg for the entire length of his calf, snug to the skin. Something akin to an adhesive gauze, but with finer strands and a tight weave. Jensen runs his fingers around the bandaging to feel for any bumps or even a dip in the fabric from where the bullet went in and out. Everything seems perfectly shaped, even at the most sensitive areas on either side of his calf. Thumbing around the wounds doesn’t give him any more answers, but it does twist his stomach with the sharp pains every time he touches his leg. 

He grows lightheaded as his stomach rolls with a new wave of nausea, so he slowly lays back in bed and breathes steadily through his nose. 

“Fuck,” he curses before looking towards the door when he hears a new song start up beyond the room. A cha-cha slide kind of beat with a playful piano. Definitely Motown with the gravelly voice calling out about his baby and then Jensen thinks he knows this song. And not just in the way of having a deep music catalog, more like he _knows_ this song from a tucked-away memory he should remember. 

_Want a love I can see  
The kind of love you can give to me  
The kind of kisses to make, make me melt  
The kind of love that can really be felt_

It’s a playful beat and he finds his fingers tapping along like they know the song better than he does. He’s further frustrated by the moment when the song fades into the next and there’s a tightness in his chest like he’s forgotten to breathe while the music distracted him. 

He blinks away a light fog building along with a solid ache in the center of his forehead. That’s when the other items on the bedside cabinet come into view … his watch, the solid silver ring he’s worn on his right hand for longer than he can remember, and a small saucer with two pills. The saucer also holds a tiny yellow Post-It with block letters: _TAKE 2 FOR PAIN_. He’s grateful there’s just enough water left to take them. Even if he worries he’s in some Alice in Wonderland nightmare and the pills will do more harm than good. He figures he’s got no better options at the moment.

He sleeps like he’s dead, waking up with his body twisted at the waist and an arm trapped beneath his side. His bum leg remains mostly in place as the rest of him apparently required his typical beauty rest position of sleeping on his side, all tucked up in on himself. With one slight move, his neck pinches and he realizes he’s not even on the pillow. In fact, his head is leaning over the edge of the mattress and he’s staring at the burnt lines of wood grain. 

Within seconds, the lines start to weave back and forth, slithering like snakes within the cherry wood. Jensen blinks away the sight, but those damned lines keep slinking along the floor. He’s partly mesmerized while mostly afraid of getting out of bed, even when he now feels the intense pressure of his bladder begging to be relieved.

Using the bedside stand for leverage, he manages to get out of bed and stand on his good leg. He favors his bad one, but it doesn’t matter because soon enough it gives way and he falls to the ground in a graceless slump. The noise echoes in the room and he grits his teeth against the pain. Not to mention the embarrassment and fear that Padalecki will to find him helplessly stuck on the floor with hundreds of snakes and eels swimming around him. 

He scoots closer to the door, blood pumping fast to the anxiety of the floor continuing to move beneath him, and finally manages to yank the knob to the right and pull the door open. 

“You need help,” Padalecki says, standing at the doorway with a sad crease to his face. 

Jensen notices it’s not really a question so he doesn’t fight it. “Bathroom,” he responds plainly. 

“Okay, up with you.” It seems to take no effort whatsoever for Padelecki to pull Jensen up to stand on his good leg, bearing most of the weight against his chest (which Jensen tries to ignore, because _damn_ , it’s tight and sculpted) with his arms wound beneath Jensen’s shoulders. 

And shit, Jensen also attempts to ignore the warmth surrounding him or the wide palms spreading over his collarbone as Jared helps him stumble to the bathroom. 

Padalecki even stays in the room, keeping Jensen upright in front of the toilet, but at least dips his head down against Jensen’s neck. He inhales quickly then breathes down Jensen’s back, sending another wave of tingles through Jensen’s veins. “Sorry. I’m doing my best for privacy.”

Jensen does his best not to piss all over himself, because dear Lord that would probably be the only thing to make this whole situation even worse. “There’re no snakes in here,” he says before thinking through what that would really mean. 

Padalecki leans around to look at Jensen. “Yeah, no snakes,” he says slowly.

“There’re snakes in my bedroom. But like, not really there. I saw them on the floor.”

Lifting his eyebrows, he watches Jensen before smiling with a sudden realization. “Probably the tramadol. Can cause some fuzzy visions and weirdo dreams.”

 _Sounds my entire life_ , Jensen thinks.

Once he’s done, Padalecki spins them back through the doorway and down the hallway. Jensen can’t ignore the humiliation of being a grown man in his thirties yet requiring help to take a piss and be put back to bed. Especially when he doesn’t even know Padalecki … even when Padalecki surely remembers him. 

As Padalecki gets him tucked back in, Jensen watches the man’s profile, doing his best pinpoint long ago memories tied to the slope of his nose, those thin pink lips, or the sharp lines of his jaw and cheeks. Nothing rings a bell. 

When he’s set in bed, Padalecki shifts to look at him and they’re mere inches away as Jensen remains seated against the log frame serving as a headboard. Jensen catches how Padalecki seems to search his face much the way Jensen had just done to him. Then their eyes meet and a shock runs from Jensen’s stomach down to his toes. 

“What’s wrong?” Padalecki asks as Jensen flinches from the sharp current. 

In lieu of answering, Jensen searches for his own needs. “What is your name?”

“What?”

“You helped me in the bathroom. I should know your name.”

“Jared.” He smiles a little. “But I figured you knew that.”

Jensen frowns. “I don’t remember.”

“No, I mean because … I’m, you know …” Jared pauses then shakes his head with an awkward laugh. “No, nevermind. I just thought that …”

There are so many open wedges to fill in Jensen’s puzzle that he wants to just keep asking every question possible. “You thought what?”

He wavers in responding, slipping back from the bed and keeping his head down, hair shielding his face. “Just, because, I’m, you know. _Jared Padalecki._ ”

Jensen stares because Jared isn’t exactly being humble yet he’s not the boisterous, smooth, and confident virtuoso seen in the media and at his big product events. Not only is Jensen’s current state a complete puzzle, so is Jared Padalecki. And Jensen suddenly wants to dive into that mystery. “What am I doing here?”

“You’re resting up until you’re able to walk again,” Jared replies while gesturing at Jensen’s leg. 

With a sideways, critical look, he asks, “Are you keeping me hostage?”

“I … no?” Jared huffs and shakes his head. “Am I supposed to be?”

Jensen regrets the question given Jared’s response, yet he still wonders what the hell is going on with being swept away to this place. “It feels like a very hostage-y position to be in. Someone claims they know you, you don’t know them, and all the while, they’re keeping you locked up in their cabin.”

“You’re not locked up. You opened the door yourself.”

“And you’re giving me drugs that are driving me nuts!”

“It’s just a side effect. It’s not done on purpose.”

 _Jensen, shut up_ , he tells himself, recognizing how ridiculous he sounds. Petty and judgmental, really. “Still, I’m stuck in this room with some kind of leechy thing on my leg and – ”

“It’s a fibrous fuse.”

“Okay, and what the hell is a fibrous fuse?”

“It’s a … well, it’s a thing …” With a haughty sigh, Jared flips his hands in the air as he fails to explain. “That is fusing the fibrous tissues of your muscles back together.”

He stares again, because that’s not really an answer. “A thing?”

Jared nods like Jensen should get it. Like he’s a child. Though, compared to Jared’s mental capacity, perhaps Jensen really is.

“A _thing_ ,” he repeats, lacking a better response.

“It’s very modern technology. Very hard to explain.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s _very_ new.”

Jensen narrows his eyes despite his sudden want to laugh at how petulant Jared is becoming. “You say very a lot.”

Jared is still incredibly nervous, which makes Jensen run through a new bout of anxiety about the whole situation. “Look, I have a lot of companies that do a lot of different things. Tri-Labs is just one piece of the portfolio. Some of the other stuff, it’s under the radar. No one knows about it.”

“Is it illegal?”

“What?” Jared huffs again. He seems to do that a lot. “No.”

Jensen digs deeper into the possibilities. “Are you working for the government?”

“No!”

What could be worse, Jensen wonders. “ _Foreign_ governments?”

“Jesus. No. It’s medical research. But it’s all experimental, high-tech kind of research that stays on the down low.”

“Like some kind of evil genius.” That seems more on the nose. 

“No, I’m not an evil genius. I’m a ver—” Jared stalls, giving Jensen a pert, pissy smile, then redirects his words. “I’m an exceptionally charitable man. I give millions each year to a number of charities … educational foundations, international welfare, and then run my medical research in the hopes of merging it all together.”

Jensen wonders how the popularity of Jared’s technological revolution fits into all of this. “But then Tri-Labs?”

Jared shrugs. “It pays for all the real stuff I want to do. Like back at ... ” He glances away and lowers his voice, disappointed for a bit. “At Air Foundation. We do a lot of great things.”

“That no one knows about?” Jensen fills in, still skeptical of Jared’s explanation.

“No. No one does. It’s big stuff,” and here Jared eases up on being so defensive and slides into something more comfortable and proud, “like really big stuff that could transform the health and technology industries.”

Jensen shakes his head, still utterly confused. “Then why doesn’t anyone know about it?”

Now he chuckles, back to amused and easy. “Some of it, it’s so far beyond what people can realize, what they would accept. And other parts, well, it’s just all too expensive to make a reality.”

“Like this fuse thing.”

“Exactly like the fuse thing.” Jared smiles a little. 

Jensen feels as if he’s made some headway in this conversation and perhaps he’s bought himself a bit of good will. So in the small silence signaling the end of this particular line of questioning, Jensen reaches for his cell and motions with it. “Any chance your fancy technology includes a charger?”

Immediately, Jared’s face falls and his voice becomes tight. “That’s probably a bad idea.”

He watches intently to read whatever he can from Jared’s suspicious eyes. “Why is that?”

“If they’re still after us … if they’re tracking your phone …”

“Who’s they?”

“The ones shooting at us.”

“At you,” he reminds Jared. Maybe to also reinforce the idea that Jensen is in no trouble. Well, beyond whatever is happening in this cabin. 

Jared crosses his arms at his chest and takes a few steps in different directions, like he’s idling in place, seeking a chance to run. “We don’t know that yet.”

“What the hell is going on? You say I’m not being held here, but you won’t let me even charge my phone? My family, friends, hell even work is probably all upset about my being gone for …” Jensen catches his breath and moves in irritation of his status. “How long have I been here?”

“A few days.”

“How many is a few?”

“Maybe five.”

Jensen’s heart stops before he’s overcome with rage. “That’s a lot more than a few!”

“You had to stay under while the fuse started up!” Jared defends immediately. “There’s no way you’d be able to handle the pain at the start.”

“And how long was I under for? And don’t say _a few_ days.”

“Like two?”

Jensen side eyes Jared and bites the inside of his lip to control his anger. He’s not mad at Jared, so much as pissed off about the whole situation. He recognizes Jared has done more than enough to keep them both safe thus far. If he wasn’t helping Jensen, things would likely be much worse right now. 

Jared sighs and his look is sad yet caring as he watches Jensen calm down. “I’m so sorry about the situation. I didn’t ask to be shot at any more than you asked to be hit. We’re both in a rough situation right now and I’m doing my best to keep us under the radar.”

With a small nod, Jensen tries to smile to assure Jared it’s not personal. “And I appreciate that. Just, you have to understand how this is from my side.”

“I know, I know,” Jared insists with a smile and nod. “And I’m trying to help you out as much as I can.” After a moment he takes a deep breath, gearing up for something important, it seems. “What about a J-pad for now? It’s not on the network, to avoid giving away our location, but it has games and a few movies?”

Jensen matches Jared’s smile, the corner tipping up with amusement. “That’d be better, yeah.”

Jared rushes from the room without another word and returns in record time with a tablet. He taps in his own password then hands it over with a flourish, like Vanna White presenting letters. Jensen thinks this model is a bit more attractive, a flash of warmth shocking him again. 

“Thank you,” Jensen says then suddenly blurts, “For everything. For coming here and the bathroom and the tablet. Thank you.”

A wink is the only answer Jared offers before leaving the room with the door closing for Jensen’s privacy. Or maybe Jared’s as well. 

Either way, Jensen’s glad to at least waste some time on Solitaire and Bejeweled in between his tramadol-induced hallucinations and naps. Now if only he could manage to piss without assistance, things would _really_ be looking up.

Jensen is stuck in a dream that’s like an out of body experience; he's escaped his physical form and is witnessing the whole thing from the upper balcony. He's laid out in a hospital bed with a flurry of technicians moving around him yet his eyes are closed and his body completely still. He can't tell what they've done to him, what kind of procedures have been laid upon him, or what kind of pain he’ll feel when they're done. But he can tell that the medical team is excited for what the results will be. 

Then Jared appears. He walks into the room with the same green garb that all the rest wear in the sterile environment. He moves closer to Jensen, hovering over his head. All the while, everyone around them keep bustling like they're on a schedule that Jared cares not to keep.

When he dips in closely to speak, Jensen, the one of the edge witnessing the scene, doesn't expect to hear a sound. Yet he receives every word clearly. 

“This is amazing Jensen. You are incredible. Everything will be fine. You will be fine.”

Jared kisses Jensen's forehead, rubbing his thumb over Jensen's brow. He stares down at Jensen like some pure gem found in the wild. As if Jensen is some new found artifact for Jared to curate. From where he stands, Jensen witnesses the admiration and Jared's eyes, the care in his soft smile. 

Jensen's unsure of what it means, but there's a small burst of warmth in his own belly as he continues to watch Jared stand guard over his unmoving body, fingers gently splayed over the temples, mouth coming down to sweetly kiss his head.

Surging forward, Jensen bursts from the dream to stare at the dark wood walls. His leg twinges, though far better off than it was yesterday, so he leans forward to inspect the band still tightly wound around his calf.

He has no clue what he’s looking for, though it seems to be the same as the first day he saw it. There are no seams on the wrap and he can’t get any leverage on the tight weave of the rubber to see beneath it. 

Frustration overcomes him from so many angles. He still doesn’t understand why he’s stuck here at the cabin. What kind of threat they’re hiding from. And add on all of Jared’s oddness over technology and medical research, including Jensen’s leg. Not to mention the ridiculous notion that they knew each other somewhere back in time … something related to the Air Foundation. Whatever that is … 

Now Jensen has to deal with the cumbersome feelings of warmth and charm from his dream. No matter how much he tries to twist his heart into disliking Jared for this whole mess, he has to appreciate all that has been done in Jensen’s favor. In any other scenario, the billionaire tech virtuoso would likely have locked Jensen up after tackling him at that event. Or left him behind as more shots came their way. 

Instead, Jared brought Jensen with and scurried away to where they would both be safe, hidden away from all that Jensen knows. Still, this is a bit annoying,yet Jensen starts to think maybe this whole situation is for the best. 

With his first attempt to stand today, Jensen finds himself steady on both feet, if not just a bit hesitant. There’s still the burn at the entry and exit wounds, now dulled over with time and healing, he assumes. So he tests a first step on his left leg and wobbles with enough pain to remind him he was shot. “Jesus Christ!” he shouts before he gets himself together and attempts a slower, softer step. Carrying a little extra weight on his right side, while barely balancing anything on the ball of his left foot, Jensen manages a more useful and less painful step forward. 

Jared shoves the door open with worry streaked across his face, causing Jensen to take a few quick steps back. “Are you okay?” Jared asks as Jensen cries out in pain with the hurried movements then settles back down on the bed. “You shouldn’t be up walking by yourself!” he insists as he comes to help him sit more comfortably on the bed with his left knee bent carefully. 

“I was testing a theory,” Jensen offers, hoping to temper Jared’s own frustration with him. After all, the last Jensen saw of that handsome face, it was caring so gently of Jensen in that dreamy surgical unit, soft flushed lips setting to beautifully on Jensen’s forehead. 

Jensen shakes his head to get out of that moment, because it was all a dream. Nothing to transfer over to real life … right?

“And what was that?” Jared asks with a crooked, annoyed smile. “That you can manage to walk by yourself just days after getting shot?”

He bites the corner of his mouth. “I was hoping?”

“Without crutches or a cane?”

Glancing around the room, Jensen sees the same dresser, bed, field and farm décor, and night stand he’s been staring at for the last three days. “And do you have any of those things?”

“Of course I do. All you had to do was ask.” Seconds later, Jared is gone from the room and Jensen is left staring at the open doorway wondering why in the world Jared would have medical equipment in his family’s cabin. Yet, here Jared appears with a classy cane, all black with a blue bejeweled handle for Jensen to settle his hand over. “Once more with feeling, eh?”

Doing his best to ignore how closely Jared watches, Jensen pushes into the cane as he stands, feeling the jewel’s edges mark deeply in his skin. It helps, surely, but now he’s left staring at the diamond patterns in his palm. 

Jared reaches out with his thumb running along the lines and inspecting Jensen’s hand. “I hadn’t thought about that. But we can get you something for it.”

“More fusion technology?” Jensen asks with a raised eyebrow.

The corner of Jared’s mouth picks up. “I was thinking a glove.”

“Smart ass,” he fires back without thinking. Then looks away when Jared winks at him, trying his best to ignore the quick flash of excitement in his chest. 

“Are you hungry? I was about to make lunch.”

On cue, Jensen’s stomach gurgles with a deep ache of emptiness. “Is it already too late for breakfast?”

Jared steps alongside Jensen with his arm hanging in the air behind Jensen’s back. His head is down, watching Jensen’s steps, as he answers with great cheer, “It’s never too late for breakfast, so long as you wait for it.”

Jensen stops at the doorway and stares at Jared. “What in the world?”

“Oh,” Jared chuckles. “Just a thing my gramma used to say. Like, she’d make us breakfast whenever we wanted, as long as we were willing to wait for her to cook it all up. Pancakes, sausage, bacon, stuffed French toast, hash browns, biscuits, sometimes frittatas or omelets made to order. It was always her favorite to cook for the kids.”

Suddenly Jared looks away and licks his lips, as if clearing that whole conversation away. Jensen understands, can read the slight shade of embarrassment for letting a story get away from him. He thinks it’s actually kind of nice to hear something more from Jared than cryptic, elusive answers. 

“Well, if there’s anything close to that on the menu, I can wait,” Jensen assures him. “So long as there’s coffee to start.”

“There’s always coffee, you can trust me on that one.”

Jared leads them into the hallway and soon to the long stairwell that lines one side of the lower level, which is wholly surprising to Jensen. He’d thought he was in the one room of a small, lonely cabin, but there is a whole other level to this place that’s fully equipped with stylish furniture – leather couches and arm chairs surrounding a heavy wooden coffee, then accented by glass side tables. The living area is lit by a fancy twelve-tier chandelier of wrought iron posts pointing LED bulbs in different directions. The kitchen is all stainless steel except for the grey marble island that stretches most of the room, and the dining room features sixteen wooden frame chairs with deep indigo fabrics on the back and seat. 

Jensen stalls at the stairwell with one hand gripping the cane and the other the banister as he checks out the space again. He blinks a few times, just in case he’s still dreaming. He now sees a loft area to his right with a full wrap-around balcony above the lower level and more doors leads to more rooms, a half dozen he counts quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Jared asks with a hand around Jensen’s elbow. “Too much, too soon? Should we go back to the room?”

“I thought we were at a cabin?”

“Yeah, my family’s cabin.”

“This is not a cabin.” Jensen clears his throat. “This is some sort of mansion. You said your grandpa built this place?”

Jared covers his mouth then tucks hair behind his ear. “Well, I mean, I’ve done some upgrades since then.”

Now he laughs. “Some.” 

“You wanna eat or just stand here for a while?”

Jensen turns to Jared with narrowed eyes, yet finds himself smirking at the humor instead of snipping back. “Yeah, I could definitely eat.”

Jared helps him down the stairs and to the dining area. He pulls out a chair on the long side, nearest to the open kitchen, and nudges the next chair open for Jensen’s leg to rest. Now Jensen is left to watch Jared cook them both breakfast It’s a relief that he can enjoy the scene with a fresh cup of coffee, rich and dark like all the high-end stuff is. A mellow mix of rhythm and blues music fills the air from a nearby speaker and Jared bobs along to the beat, which makes Jensen smile at the open, calm moment. It’s also a great sight of Jared’s back as he mans the stove for eggs and hash browns, muscles bunching beneath the thin grey t-shirt, shoulders wide and broad. 

Jensen slowly sips at his coffee, the mug up close to his mouth, as he admires the smooth lines down to Jared’s hips along with the roundness of his ass in those yoga pants. For a long while now, he’s mocked the yogi lifestyle that Danneel adopted a few years ago, especially the pants that he likened to pajamas for public appearances. Now, he’s quite grateful for the thin material draping down Jared’s ass and legs. 

Jared clears his throat and Jensen has to look up to realize he’s been caught checking Jared out. And also had missed the question. 

He also clears his throat and pulls the coffee down to hold in his lap. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Bacon or sausage?”

“Sausage,” he answers immediately, then hides his face behind his mug again, his cheeks heating up at the thought of another meat. 

Jensen busies himself with admiring the woodwork throughout the room as Jared finishes cooking. The table is constructed of slats of oak, edges sanded down yet uneven to express the hard work put in by hand. Maybe another thing Jared’s grandfather made. Old photos weathered by age are framed and on the wall displaying a growing family enjoying a large acreage of land. 

He’s taken out of his visual tour of the dining room when Jared joins him, grabbing a chair next to where Jensen’s leg is elevated. “That’s the family,” Jared offers, nodding towards the wall of photos.

“Big family,” Jensen points out. A couple portraits show a few dozen folks and Jensen wonders what it’s like to grow up with lots of folks around. He has a brother and sister he sees at the holidays, and his parents lead a fairly solitary life in retirement. 

Jared hums as he finishes chewing his recent forkful, wipes his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Yeah, my parents had a lot of siblings, who also had a lot of kids, which meant a lot of cousins. Once year, we’d all come down here for a family weekend.”

It’s refreshing to have an actual conversation, especially after being cooped up in that room for the last few days. Jensen appreciates this unguarded version of Jared up close, so he continues to ask questions while ignoring his food. “Is that why you had to expand the place?”

“Oh, no, I did that years later.” Jared pauses in thought, drawing inward at the memories of building on top of a family landmark. He glances at Jensen, sharing a smile, before opening back up again. “We’d bring tents and sleeping bags, and just spread out on the land beyond the forest. It’d be one hell of a camping trip, and then you could come back to the house to shower, eat real food, play games, whatever. A lot of great memories in this place.”

“It must be great to settle here now then? In between all the bustle of your life?” Jensen steals a mouthful of eggs and immediately moans at the fresh, bright flavor of real scrambled eggs. Seasoning dots the next bite, telling him that there’s more magic to the eggs than just a caring hand. “Oh my god, these are fantastic.”

Jared laughs. “There’s always something about eating food someone else cooked for you.”

Jensen scoops hash browns into his mouth and moans again when a mix of onions, peppers, and cheese join the potatoes to truly please his taste buds. “Oh, man, you could say that again.”

“There’s always something about eating food someone else cooked for you.”

They both laugh and Jensen can’t ignore the small sprinkling of affection for Jared’s lively smile and his rosy cheeks that tell Jensen the man’s just as delighted to joke with Jensen. 

“But yeah,” Jared says, answering Jensen’s initial question, “It’s nice to escape somewhere quiet in the downtime. Not many can get a hold of me here.”

Jensen widens his eyes and waits to take another bite. “I’m surprised the whole place isn’t a giant communications hub with all the stuff you can do.”

“When I come here, I pretty much don’t want anyone to find me. No use in giving them a signal to track.”

Taking in the lower level again, something occurs to Jensen. “You don’t even have a TV in here.” A moment later, he fills in, “Because there’s no cable or internet.”

Jared nods while playing with the food on his plate, like he’s avoiding the conversation. He still admits, “When I come here, it’s just to escape. I can get a hold of anything in the world in a second. Doesn’t mean I always want that.”

“Huh.” Jensen goes in for the last bite of his eggs, only know realizing he’d gobbled them down so quickly. “Didn’t think someone like you would have layers.”

“Someone like me?” Jared repeats, more of a statement than a question.

Slowly, he faces Jared and thinks through the real intention behind his statement. “Just, someone who has the world at their fingertips … who can have anything in the world in one second,” Jensen reminds Jared of his own comment, “I just wouldn’t imagine they’d be real grounded.”

“I have a lot more going on than most people realize. More than they could understand.”

The way he stares directly into Jensen’s eyes makes Jensen think that _most people_ is really just one person: Jensen. Which makes him ask, “Is that something to do with whatever happened between us in the past?”

“So we’re past the flirting and right into the serious stuff, huh?”

Jensen’s quieted by the sweet disappointment in Jared’s voice, tempered by the light flush on his cheeks for having referred to their conversation as flirting. Jensen finds himself focusing on his coffee rather than really address that because … yeah, surely flirting with someone as good looking at Jared, as kind and good-humored, is a luxury. But Jensen still has all those missing puzzle pieces to get into place. 

Neither of them finish their food, now focused on the room Jared leads them to in the back hall of the cabin. He remains quiet the whole way, also when he places his palm on a small screen next to the door frame to open the door. Once a soft voice announces _unlocked_ , he steps in. He waits for Jensen, who’s moving slowly with the cane, to join him in what looks like the very communications hub Jensen had joked about just minutes ago. One wall is full of four giant TV screens, another has a rack of smaller monitors and keyboards mounted just below them, while the other two sides of the room display a mix of haphazardly packed bookshelves and tables scattered with half-constructed electronics. The room is lit by a soft hue from the ceiling fixtures, while the room lacks any windows. 

Jensen figures this is another place where Jared can escape without anyone finding him thanks to the hand print security, keeping _any one_ out. This is where Jared can work on a number of his secret projects, tinker around with electronics, and keep his restless hands busy, he tells Jensen. Yet Jensen can’t really pay much attention when one screen lights up with a picture of them together, just like Jared said, back in the early twenties. Jensen thinks he’s probably 23 and Jared looks impossibly young, dressed in green scrubs just like his dream. 

There’s something off about the picture, though, and Jensen steps up closer to the screen as he’s struck with how flat his eyes are, how he doesn’t seem to look at the camera even as he smiles. His hand comes up to the screen with fingers touching his own face. He flinches back when the image flickers and then zooms in. Jared comes closer and uses his fingers to adjust the frame on the photo, making Jensen realize it’s a smart TV with touch technology while Jared shifts the photo to the top corner then taps a few folders on screen to bring more items into view. 

There’s too much to absorb at once, yet Jensen tries to look at every piece. X-rays and MRI scans in one corner, a medical report below it, a cross section of an eye from some medical publication next to close-ups of what Jensen is assuming is his own green eyes. 

None of it makes any difference in Jensen’s empty memories and he’s left listening to Jared explain it himself.

“If we go all the way to the beginning …” Jared takes a deep breath and continues, “you always had really poor eyesight, wore extensive prescription eye wear. Through college, it degraded at a rapid rate.”

“I wore glasses, yeah,” he says absently. “But then I had Lasik.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Jensen looks at Jared, wide eyed with his heart pumping, and he has no clue what’s happening now. Instead of just puzzle pieces missing from his past, Jensen now imagines the whole slate being wiped clear. “I did. I went to a doctor in Riverside who did Lasik and then I was fine. I was 25.”

Jared swallows, Adam’s apple hard in his throat. “You were 25. That part is right. But your parents brought you in because you’d gone blind soon after college and the Air Foundation helped you regain your sight.”

He blinks with the inability to comprehend this new version of his life that doesn’t match anything he remembers from that time period. 

With a few more taps on the screen, Jared brings up more images to overlap the old ones, and display another cross section of an eyeball with an oblong object placed between the eyeball and the optic nerve. He uses his pinky to reference different areas as he explains, “You’d always been nearsighted. Images were cast behind your retina. Over time, the vitreous body,” here he motions at the main fleshy part of the eye behind the lens, “had degenerated, essentially depleting the whole space and leaving it open within your eyeball. We had to reconstruct the body then inserted an optic splint to keep the shape of your eyeball intact.”

Jensen stares at Jared, complete gob smacked by the whole story. He considers it the tallest of tall tales, and yet all that Jared has explained sounds legitimate in a medical sense. 

Jared is watching him back with his eyelids halfway down and mouth turned down in sadness. “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. I know it’s crazy, but I have to say you were one of our most successful cases.”

“A case,” Jensen repeats hollowly. “Like just a file on the shelf. A silly experiment.”

Jared sets his hands on Jensen’s shoulders and draws closer. “It wasn’t an experiment. We definitely knew what we were doing, had done it a dozen times before. Yours was just most accelerated instances we’d seen. And within days, with a few small tweaks, you regained full eyesight. Now you have twenty-twenty vision.”

Jensen falls into a pit of despair as he grasps for any signs that this is absolutely not true. He thinks of his parents having kept something like this from him for over a decade, imagines people poking around inside his eyes with unknown medical technology, hates having nothing to hold onto to ground the mix of disbelief and wonder at the concept that he had once had lacked any ability see. 

“Are you okay?” Jared squeezes his shoulders and dips in closer to search Jensen’s face. 

Before he can speak, he feels that familiar haze sweep over him and he grips tightly at the jeweled head of the cane. His eyesight glazes over and Jared’s face is a fuzzy mess of lines and shades of brown and creamy skin. 

Jensen has his first vision since being here. Through a fit of anxiety, he is grabbing Jared around the neck to kiss him, reaches far into Jared’s mouth to work through the flurry of emotions racking his brain, then the scene stutters to show them in bed, bare skin sliding together, Jared’s hands gripping tight to Jensen’s thighs as they rock against one another. 

Jensen blinks and shakes his head out of the vision so he’s left staring at Jared, who is watching closely with worry. 

“Jensen, you okay?” Jared repeats.

He breathes deeply and furrows his brow with apprehension for his question. “What are the side effects?”

“Side effects of what?”

There’s a war brewing between wanting to know everything and wanting to ignore anything. He begins to sweat as his skin heats up at both the images he’d just witnessed and at the possibility that his visions are somehow attached to this. They started in his mid-twenties. This strangely concocted procedure happened around the same time. “Side effects of the surgery. Of the splint and whatever else you did in there.”

“Besides sight?” Jared replies with a confused shake of his head. 

Jensen turns to the screen again and examines the _after_ graphic, of his eyeball compressed from the original image, with the split filling what previously had been empty space. “Why is it like that? Why is it all pushed forward?”

Jared points at the scan again to describe the differences between images. “When you’re nearsighted, an image is projected in the middle of the vitreous body, when it should be further back here along the retina. So we pushed the body forward to ensure the focal point was always meeting the retina. Like making sure you were seeing things before you used to.”

“You moved it forward,” he mumbles as a few things align in his brain. “I see things before I should.”

“Yeah, you do.” Jared wraps his hand around Jensen’s elbow, sending a tendril of comfort through Jensen’s body. “It’s the science behind the eye.”

Jensen steps forward to better study the image of his fixed eye. Jared’s hand slides away from Jensen’s arm, and strangely enough, he misses the warm touch. “Where did your magic technology come in?”

“In the vitreous body. The way it was rebuilt.”

“Which was?”

“Something akin to cauterizing. We shut off the areas that were disintegrating, had to stop them from continuing to fall apart.”

“And then?” Jensen prompts when Jared falls silent. 

“What is this all about?” Jared asks with a huff. 

For the first time in his life, Jensen is completely at ease to tell his story. Just like Jared, he starts at the beginning. “Somewhere around age 25, I discovered that I could see the future …”


	3. Part Three

They each spend the evening decompressing from their revelations. Jared had transferred much of his materials to the J-pad he’d previously given to Jensen to keep him busy, now a fountain of information. Jensen has always been about statistics and facts, not much for technology or anatomy, so some of this is taking a while to make sense. 

Jared, meanwhile, had retired to his own room after hearing Jensen’s history of the past ten years. In a shocking development, he was nowhere near as disbelieving as Jensen had been about their history. Jared had listened intently, brows lowered as he tried to understand all that Jensen had to share. It wasn’t until the end of Jensen’s story that Jared appeared disturbed—once Jensen explained what brought him to the theater to save Jared. 

It seemed he was more shaken up at the memory of being shot at, and more importantly at the thought that it was well intended, given Jensen’s visions of it. 

In between Jensen’s shock and confusion over all that the J-pad now contains, he’s also feeling a wave of guilt over bringing that information to Jared’s doorstep. 

Then another type of wave comes over him, the known creep of dizziness and warmth, of his vision narrowing down to a fuzzy scene of he and Jared together. Like the images he saw back in Jared’s communications room, Jensen witnesses a burst of energy from the both of them as they fight through kisses and hurry to remove each other’s clothes. He can hear the heavy panting between them and the slick slide of their kisses. 

It’s conflicting, really. On one hand, Jensen surely is attracted to Jared, and Jared has certainly shown interest in return on occasion. But there’s the confusion of seeing a scene so non-threatening as them having sex. Jensen’s visions have always led him to save people, to minimize pain, and make the future a bit easier for the victims to swallow. 

He doesn’t know what to do with this on his brain. Doesn’t know what to think of the scene. Should he tell Jared for the sake of full disclosure as they try to sort out if that optical procedure is what caused Jensen’s visions? Or should he just ignore all that has happened in this cabin and survive awkward silences until they’re free to leave?

And when would that be? Jensen wants nothing more than to no longer be holed up in the middle of nowhere, absent of fresh air and sunlight, while the rest of the world carries on. He’d love to talk to his parents about this whole debacle. Yearns to share the details with Danneel, for comfort and venting. For the first time in probably ever, he wishes he were back at work with none of this weighing him down. 

The J-pad’s screen turns black, shaking Jensen out of his thoughts. Maybe he just needs to bury himself in all this information to truly understand the situation. To have a better grasp on the questions flying around, and be armed to fire them all at Jared in the morning. 

He decides that’s the only feasible course of action at this time and burrows in for a long night of reading.

In the morning, Jensen is awoken to familiar sound of soul music floating around beyond the door. He also swears he smells something sweet in the air, which makes him think of breakfast, which also brings coffee to mind. 

He’d been up most of the night reading and rereading all of Jared’s materials; coffee is definitely a requirement to function at this point. Just as he opens the bedroom door, it occurs to him that his leg no longer hurts, that he’s made it up and across the room without a single slice of pain or cry in aggravation. 

When he steps onto the balcony, he catches Jared flipping pancakes then a whole pan of sausage links. He also notices that Jared is singing along with the music and it’s the same song from the first day Jensen was fully conscious here. 

That same infections slip-slide rhythm makes Jensen itch at the back of his head. He rubs at the spot as he watches Jared scoop up a pancake and turn it over with flair. His head bops around to the beat and he goes along with the lyrics belted from the speakers. 

_I want a love I can see  
That's the only kind that means a thing to me  
Don't want a love you have to tell me about  
That kind of loving I can sure do without_

Jensen can’t help the smile creeping on his face, or the fact that his feet move him to the stairs and down each step. One of the last ones creak and Jared spins around with the spatula raised like a weapon. Now Jensen has to laugh at the ridiculous scene, especially the drippings of pancake batter down the front of Jared’s San Antonio Spurs shirt. 

“If you’re not careful, you could do a lot of damage with that thing,” Jensen jokes as he approaches the counter to help himself to a cup of coffee. 

“Sorry,” Jared replies with a flush. He looks down at the pan with wisps of hair falling into his face, and Jensen does all he can to not tuck them back.

Maybe his visions mean more than he wants to admit. 

“I’m used to being here along. I’m still jumpy whenever I hear you doing something.”

“So that’s how you came to rescue me so easily? Whenever I was helpless on the floor?”

Jared nods while tending to the sausages in the grease popping all around as they heat up. “Yeah, I’d heard one little noise or you swearing your face off, and I felt like I couldn’t ignore it.”

Jensen takes a satisfying sip of the steaming coffee then mumbles, “What a hero.” Jared playfully glares at him and Jensen considers sticking his tongue out in retaliation. However he can’t manage to instigate more that could lead to the scene he’s been witnessing over the last twenty-four hours. Something tells him it’d be compromising the situation if he went ahead with it, like he was preying on Jared. 

“Hey! You’re standing by yourself!” Jared suddenly exclaims. 

“Oh yeah,” Jensen laughs. He reaches down to pull at the end of his pajama pant leg. “I was gonna tell you. I didn’t feel a thing getting up or walking.”

“That’s great! And incredibly ahead of schedule. Wow.”

Jensen bites the side of his mouth. There’s the sneaking reminder of how he’s never been seriously injured in any of his previous incidents. He’d assumed getting shot was a much different matter, but maybe there’s something else to this whole visions thing. “How long should it have taken?”

“Maybe a week and half or so?” Jared busies himself by plating up their food and Jensen wishes he could see more of the man’s face to judge if he’s just hiding from the conversation or just really hungry. “But that’s amazing that the fuse worked so well.”

Jensen follows Jared to the table to eat, but avoids pushing the conversation. Instead, he starts up another awkward one. “This song,” he asks, even as it’s dying down and quickly transitioning to the next, “who is it?”

“The Temptations,” Jared replies idly, quickly turning back to the kitchen. “You want syrup? Jam? Oh, what about maple syrup?”

“Syrup’s good. Whatever is easy to grab.” He settles into his seat and stares at the pancakes and he considers how to bring up the fact that the song is too familiar to him. Almost uncomfortably so. “I feel like I’ve heard it before.”

“It’s an old one, so you’ve probably heard it before.”

“No, it’s just … I don’t know.” He sighs and preps his pancakes with butter and syrup then cuts them up in equal pieces in a grid format. He punches his fork into a few pieces, frustration growing over how much that song is impacting him despite having any sort of reason. 

They fall into silence and it’s not entirely awkward, but Jensen keeps stressing over finding something to talk about. To start a conversation given how easy they’d been talking so far this morning. He feels like the cloud of all that was discovered the night before has returned, clouding up what are really fantastic pancakes.

When Jensen plows through his breakfast, Jared is left smiling at him and Jensen wonders if there’s something on his face. Maybe dribbles of syrup in the corner of his mouth. Or even coffee stains down his shirt. He inspects himself then looks at Jared. “What?”

“It’s just …” Jared smiles to himself, shaking his head, and focusing back on his own plate. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to share a meal with someone.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m just always so busy, eating stuff on the run. Or stuck in my office for hours at a time without talking to anyone.”

Jensen chuckles. “I find that hard to believe. You not talking?”

Now Jared leans forward with excitable energy in his eyes. “I know! I’m totally a talker and love being around people. I miss that most from the early days. All the teamwork and working with folks as you build a great product. These days it’s just a lot of programmers presenting things and me giving a thumbs up.”

“Sounds intimidating for the programmers.”

“I’m still nice!” Jared laughs and nudges Jensen away. “It’s just a lot of me listening and giving quick feedback before I move onto the next thing. Gets a little boring after a while. No. It’s a lot boring.” He sighs with a goofy frown. “My life is a lot boring.” 

“Well, it could certainly be worse,” Jensen points out. He leans back in his seat and sets his napkin on the table, meeting Jared’s interested gaze. “I live in Excel all day long. Just numbers and formulas. I actually kind of hate dealing with my coworkers and sitting in meetings.”

“Maybe it’s the coworkers.”

He smirks. “Yeah, maybe.” After a moment of shared looks, Jensen clears his throat and starts rambling, thinking fondly of Danneel. “I have a great roommate though. We’ve lived together for a few years and she fulfills all the excitement I need of conversation.”

Jared’s face slowly freezes before he carefully sits back. “That’s all we need sometimes. Just one person to meet all our needs.”

It’s a shocking change of demeanor, even when Jensen has witnessed it a number of times on dates. “She’s just a roommate,” he clarifies. “We’re both gay, actually. Met when we were dating a brother and sister duo. I know it sounds like the start of porno or something, but neither relationship lasted long. Our friendship has.” Suddenly, he feels sad and stops talking even when he usually can go on and on about how he and Danneel wound up talking to each other more on double dates than they did with their significant others. He has plenty of hilarious stories that dot their history together, but he’s now just missing her like a hole in his stomach. 

“You okay?” 

Jensen blinks away the gloomy feelings and tries to smile. “Yeah. Just kinda miss her. She’s like a sister. And I’m sure she’s scared about where I’m at.”

Jared frowns in sympathy and reaches forward to cover Jensen’s hand with his own. 

“You sure there isn’t _some_ way I can contact her? Send a text or email, anything? I can’t imagine anyone is after her,” Jensen jokes just before a new round of dread comes over him. What if whoever was after Jared has figured out how Jensen is and follows Danneel for information? What if they do more than that? “There isn’t anyone after her, right?” he demands. 

“No, she’s being watched after.” Jared takes in a deep breath and squeezes Jensen’s hand. “I made sure everything was okay with her while we’re here.”

“So she knows I’m here?”

“No, but she’s taken care of.”

Jensen nods as he tries to force down that bit of comfort. He thinks about what all she could be up to without him there to keep him company, and he imagines Dr. Cortese filling Danneel’s days and nights as their relationship grows. Then an idea hits him. “Genevieve. Surely they wouldn’t know to go after her? I could talk to her and she passes on a message to Danni.”

Jared appears to not be interested in that scenario, taking a while to just look at Jensen. “It’s important to you,” he says softly and Jensen wonders if it was supposed to be a question. 

“Yeah, it is,” he replies just as quietly. 

“Okay,” Jared says woodenly. “We can get a message to her.”

Smiling, Jensen turns his hand over to hold Jared’s and grips tightly. “Thank you so much.”

Jared watches their hands together and eventually squeezes back. He meets Jensen’s eyes with a soft gaze. “Of course.”

Later that day, they head back to the communications room where uses one of the keyboards and connecting monitor to open a few programs that mean absolutely nothing to Jensen. Jared obviously knows his way around the screens as his fingers fly over the keys to enter a number of inputs while Jensen silently stands by. 

This gives Jensen the time to inspect the room again. He was far too focused on the large touch screens and all of the information that was dumped on him earlier to really pay attention. One of the tables on the other side of the room has a number of odds and ends that represent a number of items in the Tri-Labs catalogue. Opened phones and laptops without their shells. He wonders if it’s a graveyard or more like a garden where Jared works with new technology. He now pictures Jared sitting at the table as he does his best to resuscitate the old models, taking care with each item like they were fragile flowers waiting to bloom. 

“Okay, I think I have enough traps up.”

Jensen turns to Jared then looks at the monitor, which now features them as they are right now. He waves and watches himself wave in return. In their reflection, Jared purses his lips and puts Jensen’s hand down between them. “Sorry, I was curious.”

Jared smiles while tapping out a few more commands on the keyboard and instructs Jensen to record his message. 

“Like a hostage video?” Jensen jokes. 

“You still think I’m holding you here against your will?” Jared takes his time watching Jensen react to the question, and he does. 

Jensen immediately frowns and thinks over the situation. His leg feels good, as does the rest of him, so he could certainly just walk out the front door, right? And yet he hasn’t attempted to do that once over the course of their days here. 

“You can leave if and whenever you want. I’m not holding you here.”

Before he can stop himself, he asks, “What _are_ we doing here?”

Jared appears pained to answer. He licks his lips and heaves his shoulders in a tired sigh. “Staying under the radar. And making sure you’ve recovered.”

And he seems to be recovered, given his strength and ability to walk without the cane. But when he truly considers it, he’s not so sure he wants to leave this bubble where Jared Padalecki lives. Where a friendship is blooming. Maybe something more, because Jensen wants to yank Jared into his arms and hug away the disappointment shrouding him now. 

“I’m sorry,” Jensen murmurs. 

“For what?”

“For acting like you haven’t helped me. You surely have. Thank you.”

Jared nods then hits a few keys to start the recording. “Go ahead.”

Jensen keeps Jared’s gaze for a few more minutes, ensuring that Jared relaxes before he turns to the camera. When he’s comfortable to speak, he tries on a smile and waves. “Hey, Danni. It’s me. Obviously. And you’re probably calling me an idiot right now. But I’m an idiot who is _alive and well_.” He feels his smile grow stronger at the thought of Danneel receiving this good news and no longer worrying over him. So he assures her of just that when he tugs Jared into the frame and points at him. “And this guy is alive and well, too. He’s taking care of things right now. And we’re doing fine. Keeping each other company and all that.”

He grins when he spots the flush spreading over Jared’s cheeks then continues on with his message.

Despite the improvements in his leg, Jensen notes that his energy is still low. Maybe being up and around on his own two feet have worn him out. Or maybe it’s just the stress of the last few days in general. Soon after Jared had passed the video along to one of his friends to let it slip it through a few different channels and finally onto Genevieve, Jensen went back to his room to rest. 

He takes a shower, the first in a few days now that he can use his leg and Jared has okayed getting the fuse wet. The warm water from the waterfall shower head is heavenly to wash away the grime that’s accumulated. He also feels like the stress of all that’s happening runs off his body and into the drain along with the water. 

Back in the bedroom, he spends some time rereading his medical files on the tablet, yet barely lasts for half an hour when his eyes begin to strain and he feels a headache growing. Setting the tablet down, Jensen closes his eyes and gets some relief with the darkness behind his eyelids. 

Jensen rests back against the pillows and prepares to fall asleep, but he never does. His brain starts playing tricks on him instead – weaving in and out of memories and visions, with many of the ones from long ago popping back up like a montage. Mrs. Whitley crossing the street, the landscaper in the tree at work, Little Abby next door almost falling off their deck, all replaying as the more painful versions of what Jensen was able to stop. Then suddenly it’s Jared, young like in the picture of them together, messy hair and playful eyes. Only it’s Jensen watching from the sidelines, not witnessing it from his own place at Jared’s side.

_Are you excited?_

_What if it doesn’t work? What if I can’t see again?_

_You’ll be safe and good. It’s going to work. Trust me._

_Promise?_

_Of course. You can believe in me._

Jared sets his hand over Jensen’s and squeezes, then Jensen moves his hand to hold on tightly. The way Jared looks at Jensen for that movement is unreal. Jensen, in the here and now, feels his chest clench with emotion at the pure adoration in Jared’s eyes, how intently he’s watching him. 

_What are you most excited for when this is done?_

_To see … everything. It sounds so stupid, but it’s the little things. Like people’s facial expressions to match what they’re saying. I wish I could see your face when you talk._

_I am pretty much smiling all the time._

_When you’re not laughing._

_That, too._

Jensen reaches out to touch Jared’s face, fingers tracing his cheekbones and over to the corners of his eyes, down the edge of his nose, and over the lines of his lips. The thought burns into him that Jared has a very nice smile, that it feels happy when his mouth is upturned, and yet he also knows it, has it witnessed for himself here in the cabin. 

The wistfulness of these thoughts are broken with the opening notes of the song … _that song_ that he keeps hearing from Jared’s playlist yet can never pinpoint for its familiarity. In his memory, Jared and Jensen are comfortably quiet until the first verse has been sung and Jensen talks again, though nervously and slow.

_I kind of want that. In the song. A love I can see._

_You’ll have that soon for sure._

_I can’t wait to see you._

Jensen’s fingers drag along the edges of Jared’s lip like he’s determining where they are before surging forward to kiss him. The alignment isn’t perfect, but pretty damn close, and Jared immediately moves into place so their lips match up. Jensen slips his tongue into Jared’s mouth with a mixture of excitement and nerves, reaching deep inside then pulling back just enough to be sure Jared is on the same page. He is, and the kiss continues on even as it slows down so they relish each touch. 

Suddenly Jensen pulls back, licks his lips, and smiles. 

_I can’t wait to see you_. 

Jensen opens his eyes and is grateful he can see the wood walls of this bedroom, that he isn’t back in that memory where blackness surrounds him. His heart beats wildly with his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths. It felt so real, all of it, and suddenly he _wants_ , it to be real. Thinks it _has_ to be with his strong reactions to the song all week. 

Without further thought, he whips back to the comforter and surges out of bed, tosses the door open, and looks around the lower level. 

When he sees to no signs of Jared, he calls his name and waits for a response. There is none. 

Jensen heads downstairs but finds the spaces empty. With one sliver of excitement and a whole host of worry over where Jared is, he tests the front door. It unlocks, lacking the high-end security of Jared’s communications office, and Jensen steps out onto a wrap-around porch that allows him to see the vast farmland surrounding the cabin. Trees and other foliage as far as he can see, keeping the place tucked back and away from plain sight. He glances around the side and spots a path that opens up the flat acreage Jared must’ve camped on as a kid. Jensen smiles softly at the thought of a couple dozen Padalecki’s spreading out on the lawn for a summer of fun. 

He heads back towards the front of the house and suddenly, he hears his voice … his own voice, along with Jared’s, back inside. He rushes back in and now sees the communications room door is cracked open with light coming out. He goes there immediately and expects to give Jared the third degree, yet he’s stopped when at the video playing on the screen. 

It’s them, back when. They’re joined by a number of others in Air Foundation lab coats, a few clipboards among the group with folks scribbling quickly. Jensen is being examined with a number of lights and other tools being held up near his eyes. From the small bits of conversation Jensen can pick up, this is after the procedure and the staff are debriefing on his condition. 

Jared stands nearby silently. He holds Jensen’s hand and watches him closely with a mixture of nervousness and care. 

_The punctum caecum has been significantly reduced,_ a young woman with fiery red hair says in a strong Scottish accent. 

_Dr. Connell is right_ , a short bearded man confirms. 

They share glances and Jared worriedly asks, _What does that mean?_

_Nothing significant. The vision should still be accurate._

The redhead steps closer to Jensen and reaches out to touch the side of his face. Jensen rightfully flinches and blinks, unaware of what’s happening. 

Apparently his vision is not yet fully restored. Jensen today, his stomach swoops with the thought, even when he knows with hard facts that he can see this very day. 

Dr. Connell draws a finger along the skin just below Jensen’s eye. _Yes, the vision should be very accurate. Perhaps a bit too much._ She turns to the group with a wondrous smile. _Without the blind spot, the opportunities for vision are endless. We shall continue our research. Jensen will be a most wonderful guinea pig_.

Jensen makes a noise, on screen and in the doorway. The latter draws Jared’s attention and he quickly turns off the video. “I didn’t know you were there,” Jared hurries to say as he stands to face Jensen.

“What was that?” Jensen demands. 

It takes a few quiet moments for the answer, as Jared seems to wager what – and how much – to say. “It was your post-op video. We did it with all of the patients.”

“I was a guinea pig?”

“No!” Jared brings his hands up and repeats _no_ a number of times. “You most definitely were not. I made sure of that.”

Jensen narrows his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Jared bites on his lower lip then sighs like he’s letting all of his tension, so much stored up energy, just … go. “Many of the doctors wanted to look into your … condition. But I couldn’t let them do that without knowing the real impacts.”

Following a deep raspy sigh, Jensen frowns. “What did you do?”

“I worked with one of the Air Foundation neurologists. He inserted a splint into your limbic system to temporarily block the hippocampus from transferring to spatial memory.”

With another sigh, Jensen asks, “In English, Jared.”

Again, biting his lower lip, Jared fights with the answer and ends up admitting rather pathetically, “I made sure you didn’t remember any of it.”

He’s angry, surely, but also riddled with sadness. A direct complication of developing feelings for Jared and trying so hard to understand where the man stands in all of this. Jensen’s not the only one with skin in the game; Jared obviously has his own set of complications in this scenario.

Staying in place, Jensen watches Jared and compares it so the youthful version he’d just experienced. So much has changed over the last decade, while Jensen read that same depth of care in those hazel eyes and the strain of his lips when he bites into the bottom one. 

“Back then,” Jensen begins, “Back when I couldn’t see, something happened between us, didn’t it?”

Jared opens and closes his mouth without a sound. 

The stare off is uncomfortable, for sure. Still, Jensen needs to hear it. Needs to match up his visions with the facts. 

Under the intense look, Jared glances at the floor between them. Every few moments, he picks his gaze up to meet Jensen’s before focusing on another spot around them. 

“I need to hear it,” Jensen pleads. “From you.”

“I … look,” Jared tries without finishing that thought.

“I just saw something. From back then. And I’m absolutely confused as to why I’m suddenly having memories this clear. Ones I never knew before. But I saw _something_.” Jensen clenches his fists and anchors his feet to the ground to steady himself. “I need you to tell me what it was.”

Opening his mouth a few times, Jared struggles to answer, stuttering out various versions of _I_ that chip away at Jensen’s heart. 

“You what?” Jensen asks as softly as possible. 

“I fell in love with you.” After a hefty sigh, Jared rattles on to fill in the blanks. “I was young and stupid, and it was that kind of stupid, young love you have when you’re twenty, twenty-one. You were just so beautiful, inside, too. And you were so kind, and funny, and you trusted me with your life. I kind of worshiped you for how much grace you had under that kind of pressure. To trust yourself to a kid like me.”

It’s too much at once, yet not nearly enough. Jensen can’t get a handle on his emotions from the revelation … confusion, sympathy, pain, happiness, emptiness. They’re all swirling together within and Jensen doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to Jared’s earnest confession. 

“You fellas always were adorable,” rings out from behind Jensen. Standing in the hallway is the same redhead from the video, the Scottish doctor who barely comes up to Jensen’s shoulders. Her size doesn’t matter; the gun in her hand does.

Jared joins Jensen in the hallway, shutting the door and moving to Jensen’s side. His shoulders rise in defense though his voice is low and confused. “Ruthie? What’re you … How did you—”

“Find you?” she says slowly with a smirk. “That part was easy once this one bothered to say hello to his pretty little friend back home.”

Jensen steps forward. “If you hurt Danneel, I swear—”

“No, no hurting,” Ruth insists. “Didn’t need to go anywhere near the little hairs on her head. Just had to follow the trail of morsels left by the message you sent.”

“Shit,” Jared whispers.

Jensen’s chest clenches with the fear on Jared’s face, along with the dread filling his own body. “You’re the one trying to kill Jared.”

“Oh darling, not kill. Just hurt a tad.” She nods enthusiastically, though it’s obvious she’s mocking them anyway. “A little maiming bothered me. But murder. Well that’s just too … final, eh Jared?”

Jared shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Oof,” she sighs. “You were always too dumb for being so smart. Your fancy little gadgets make the world go round, but you know all your other studies were much more impressive.” Ruth lazily waves the gun towards them, perhaps implying it’s just for show. “And now the homeland is looking forward to all the work you can help us complete.”

“How many times have I told you?” Jared argues, drumming up the nerve to not just stand there and take it. “My research, the foundation, it’s _not_ for sale.”

In between their bickering, Jensen wants to slink away unnoticed. This is certainly an argument he has nothing to do with, and he could go without being shot at again. No matter how many fibrous fuses Jared has stocked up. 

Once Jensen shifts back, Ruth aims her gun right at his head. “Don’t you move another step there, darling. It hasn’t gone unnoticed that Jared’s little pet project has much to share as well.”

“I don’t know anything,” Jensen insists. 

“Oh dear.” She fake pouts at them then focuses on Jared. “How do we tell the bloke that we don’t need him for his brains.”

“What?” he snaps, his heart beating wildly, pulse pumping against his throat. 

Ruth taps the gun’s muzzle near her cheek. “It’s ye eyes, dear. They’s magic.”

Jared steps forward to put himself between Jensen and Ruth, and inhales deep enough his chest puffs out with intimidation. “This is ridiculous, Ruthie. You kill us? Everything is lost. You’ll have no access to anything without me.”

“Oh, I know, darling.” With a scarily happy smile, Ruth aims the gun at Jared’s thigh and fires. 

He cries out in pain as Jensen yells his name, then Jared slumps to the floor. “Jared!” Jensen drops to the ground to help him. Blood immediately soaks into Jared’s light grey pants, blossoming red at the front and back of his leg. Jensen considers it a blessing the bullet went in and out, but still … the blood stain is spreading quickly and Jared’s breathing comes out in labored gasps. 

Jensen tugs Jared back across the floor to put more space between them and the mad woman, though she continues to hold the gun on them. In a flash, her face twists in a grimace and she snaps, “Now give me the files!”

It occurs to Jensen that his visions weren’t really growing darker. The image of Jared being shot wasn’t going to be deadly. It would just be something to slow Jared down so Ruth could get to him and have access to whatever top secret research Jared has compiled over the years. 

The only comfort here is that he doesn’t imagine Ruth will kill them. 

Not until she gets what she wants, at least.

“Where … are … the files!” she screams, leaning down to within inches of Jared’s face. 

He barely looks at her, eyes wet with painful tears and cheeks ashen. Jensen doesn’t grant her any attention as she continues to berate Jared into handing over what she wants; he yanks off his shirt and ties it just above the gunshot around Jared thigh. Jared winces as Jensen yanks on the ties to secure the knot as tightly as he can, all while Ruth stomps her high-heeled boot on the wood floor.

“You give me the files _now_ … or I’ll shoot the other leg.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jensen growls at her.

“Okay, deary,” she purrs, “then I’ll shoot _your_ leg.”

Jensen huffs as he frantically looks around for something to defend them or attack her with. His eyes land on the red buttons beneath the touch screen on the wall, the one that lets Jared in and out of the communications room, and he knows they have an out. 

Ruth has no tolerance for him taking his time and clocks Jensen across the face with the butt of her gun. Pain spikes through his head and his eyes fill with tears. His eyesight is even more blurry with the hit and he falls against the wall with dizziness. 

The cold steel of the gun presses against his chin, forcing his gaze on Ruth. “I’d hate to lose you, but it wouldn’t hurt me too much.”

“Okay, okay, fine, you can have it. It’s all in here.” He scoots back then tugs Jared’s heavy, weak body closer to the door.

“No, no, no,” Jared rattles on with heavy wheezes. “No one goes in there.”

“C’mon Jared, you gotta help a little,” he coddles before looking at Ruth, who waves gun towards the door. 

“Tick tock, deary!”

Jensen lifts Jared’s arm up and helps him set his palm on the screen. It takes a few tries to get it rightly aligned, then the screen glows green and they hear the click-clack of the lock opening. 

Ruth kicks the door open then hurries over their legs to get inside the room. Jensen sees how stunned she is by the set-up, especially the wall of servers piled high. He’s certain a number of valuable files are stored on those stations, and that Ruth could do much harm back in Scotland with them all, but he’s also confident she’s not getting very far with any of it.

He reaches for the handle and snaps the door shut. Fights again with Jared’s hand to get the scan just right, then smacks the red button. The screen glares red then rings out a low _ding_ before the computerized voice announces _lock engaged_.

From inside, Ruth’s shouts are muffled along with her banging on the door. Jensen slumps back against it, thankful that the threat and all of Ruth’s excessive shouting are subdued. That’s when he realizes he can no longer hear Jared gasping for air.

“No, no, Jared, c’mon, buddy.” He tries to shuffle Jared about the shoulders, even taps his cheeks and chest to wake him up, but there’s no movement from his pale and fragile body.

The gun pops on the other side of the door with metal ricocheting about. A stray shot flies through the wall just a foot from Jensen’s shoulder and he hurries to get away from the door while she tries shooting the lock. The screen flashes a few colors with the next shot and another one fries the electronics. That little automated voice announces _lock engaged, lock engaged, lock engaged_ over and over again. There’s a louder thump and Ruth’s continued cursing; Jensen imagines she’s run out of bullets and now throwing the gun at the door. Nothing helps as the lock seems to have malfunctioned, refusing to disengage. 

Jared’s tall frame is dead weight and Jensen can only drag him as far as the living room. His head throbs again from his injury and blood drips down his brow and into his eyes. He wipes it away and leaves Jared by the couch to search through the lower level for a way to get them out of here or even call for help. He runs out the front door again, cursing himself that it had remained open from when he went outside and gave Ruth her way in. 

He spots her car is parked diagonally to the front porch. Stumbling downthe porch steps, he manages to get across the gravel drive to reach Ruth’s car. The driver’s side door is open and he hops into the front seat to start it, but is left staring at the push-button ignition of this luxury sedan. “Damnit! Damn, damn, shit!” he yells while pounding on the steering wheel. Hanging onto it, Jensen knocks his head against it as he feels their chance to escape slip away. He continues to swear as a new round of pain rings through his head. 

Tears fill his eyes as he breaths heavily, feeling the emotion build up and carry itself out of his mouth in stuttered sobs. 

Events from the past week fly by like a picture book. Being shot at the product launch, waking up in Jared’s guestroom, falling to the ground before he could walk, Jared making them breakfast, sharing warm smiles, Jared telling him the truth, all of it, as long-kept memories flash in between and he remembers the way his stomach lurched whenever he saw young Jared smile with bright red lips and even brighter eyes. 

He hears a number of noises from their recent time together—sausage sizzling, the solitaire game shuffling cards in Jared’s tablet, laughter, the soft rain of the shower, the _ding_ of the security system that keeps Ruth locked up, followed by a quick succession of louder dings. High pitched and close. Very close. Like inside this car close, and Jensen checks the cup holders and the tiny hideaway hole beneath the radio. That’s when he finds the cell phone. A number of messages pop up on the lock screen. He hits the home button a few times in quick succession then sees _Emergency_ in the bottom left corner. 

Finally, relief is found when he can dial 9-1-1 and frantically beg for them to send an ambulance ASAP. All he can offer them for location are the big white numbers nailed into the awning on the cabin.

It’s a long bout of waiting with Jensen back to keep Jared company on the floor as the dispatcher tracks the phone.

One more surprise comes in the words, “Krause Springs.” A meager hour’s drive from Austin, where this whole debacle started.


	4. Part Four

The ER doctor, a stoic man with far less personality than Genevieve, declares Jensen has a concussion and orders stitches to close the cut along his left eyebrow. Everything is rudimentary until the doctor acknowledges that Jensen is quite famous for his efforts at the TriLabs product launch and asks how his leg is. 

“It’s fine,” Jensen replies flatly. He’s not concerned about that anymore. Jared is all he can think about.

The doctor looks over the top of his glasses to stare at Jensen. “You were shot just a week ago and you’re fine?”

Jensen realizes he can’t reasonably explain so he repeats, “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“You mind if I take a look?” the doctor asks as he puts Jensen’s chart down on the empty space of the bench behind Jensen. “Should make sure it’s draining well.”

They continue to start at each other until the doctor grabs the bottom of Jensen’s pant leg to roll the fabric up. Jensen doesn’t bother to stop him. His leg has been pain free all day thanks to Jared’s fibrous contraption, but he’s not about to explain all of that yet. 

“What the …” The doctor runs his fingers all around the band, searching for an end or crease to pull at. “Now what in Sam’s hell is this?”

“A fibrous fuse.” When the doctor remains silent, Jensen offers, “It’s state-of-the-art.”

“Obviously.” 

Jensen’s left alone soon after that, waiting to get stitched up. The intern is friendly and talkative about all sorts of random facts. The weather, the high school’s latest football game, the celebrity who’d just come into the emergency room.

He perks up at that and asks where Jared is. Naturally, she’s reticent to answer until Jensen explains what all happened to them, that they came in together. 

When he reaches the floor, he’s immediately stopped by police officers ordering him to head back into the elevator. “Floor’s closed, sir,” they say. 

Jensen realizes the area is locked down with plenty of security – local police and private personnel, including large, imposing men in black suits and ear pieces. “I need to see him.”

“No one is allowed into the unit,” another officer declares as he steps closer to Jensen, likely sizing him up to be restrained any second now.

“I came in with him. Jensen Ackles. We were in the same ambulance.”

The first officer pushes the down button for the elevator while the second guides Jensen away from the unit. “Sir, you are trespassing. Please leave.”

That please isn’t really a question but an order. Jensen sighs as he glances beyond the seat of blue uniforms. Then he spots the profile of a tall black man. His mind flashes back to the TriLabs event, to the limousine ride after, and he calls out a quick, “Hey! You’re Jared’s driver! Aldis!”

The man glances over for a second, returns to his conversation, but stops just a moment later to look at Jensen again. His eyes open wide in recognition and he heads over to Jensen, guiding him a few steps away from the officers. “It’s okay gentlemen. Give us a minute.”

“Thank God,” Jensen sighs. “Is he okay?”

“He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“But he’ll be okay, right?” he demands. “ _Right?_ ”

Aldis wipes his mouth and looks to the ceiling. “It’s a bit touch and go right now. But he’s holding on.”

Jensen seesaws on that update, rubbing his face, then wincing when he touches the wound on his forehead. “Can I see him?”

“They’re not letting anyone inside.”

“Yeah, but I was there …” He chuckles a little, but the man’s firm stance doesn’t change. “I was _there_ , at the cabin all week with him, I _saved_ him.”

“I’m sorry, man.” This time, Aldis does frown with sympathy for the whole situation. “I’ve been with him for twelve years and they’re not letting _me_ in.”

Another sigh brings Jensen’s mood down to the lowest of levels, along with his energy with all of the adrenaline finally crashing around him. He gives Aldis his contact information and begs him to call with any updates, especially if— _when_ —Jared wakes. 

The call never comes. And when Jensen heads back to Austin a week later to see Jared, the unit is clear of any signs of a massive security watch and back on schedule with a full floor of intensive care patients.

Jared is gone.

"So you haven't heard from him?" Danneel asks as she plops down on the couch and hands him a beer. 

He shrugs, imagining Jared could be hiding in any number of places, at any random place. Maybe he's holed up at TriLabs, the Air Foundation, or some corner of the planet where he'll never be found. The cabin certainly crossed his mind, but he figures after the security breach, Jared would seek out a safer place to burrow. 

All Jensen knows is he has no clue where to start in getting a hold of him.

She leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, love bug."

Jensen tips his head to hers and welcomes the comfort. He's glad to be back to sleep in his own bed with his perfectly lumpy pillows. Danneel has also been mothering him since he returned, begging him to never leave her sights. 

"But I am glad you're home."

"Me, too."

"And safe."

"Me, too," he repeats.

After a short silence, she sighs. "I can't believe you got shot."

"Me neither."

"You'll notice I told you so."

Jensen chuckles and lightly elbows her before lifting his arm up and around her so they can settle deeper into the couch. "You'll notice I don't care."

It takes two weeks for an official statement from TriLabs. Jared Padalecki is taking some well-deserved rest and relaxation following a hunting accident – no mention of the dreaded Ruth Connell – and his next in command is spearheading the new J-Watch release. 

With just a few lines regarding Jared finding himself some vacation time, Jensen immediately knows where to go. Back to Krause Springs. 

He winds through the woods far longer than he’d anticipated. Once the cabin comes into view from the gravel drive opening up to the property, he grips the steering wheel as tightly as he had when trying to get Ruth’s car to start so they could escape the place. 

He forces one foot in front of the other to walk up the front stairs to the door. Surprisingly, it’s open with just a screen door keeping Jensen from entering. From here, he can look straight down the hallway to where everything happened with Ruth, where Jared had spilled blood all over the floor, where she smacked Jensen with her gun, where he finally locked her up until the police could arrest her and put her away for a very long time. 

The door to that communications room is open and Jared moves into the doorway. He crouches down and is fiddling with the touch screen and lock. The plate is open and he’s poking around inside with a few tools. Just such a simple action, yet Jensen’s breath catches deep in his throat as he finally knows, really knows, that Jared is alive. 

Just like the week Jensen spent here, the cabin is filled with easy going soul music and Jared softly nods his head to the beat while he tinkers. Jensen doesn’t want to break the moment, fears alarming Jared too sharply if he moves or speaks, so he spends the next few minutes admiring Jared from afar. 

Still, Jared is frightened by the image of Jensen at the front door, having flinched when catching sight from the corner of his eye. “Holy shit!” Jared yells.

Jensen frowns and offers a pathetic wave. “I’m sorry.” A beat later, he adds on, “And hi.”

Jared rises immediately, drops his tools to the ground, and wipes his hands on the jeans. They’re hanging low with tattered holes around the thighs and knees, and Jensen would sink to his knees right now to pull them off. 

For all that he thought he couldn’t take advantage of his visions of Jared, Jensen finds that he can’t fight the feelings that have been brewing since they separated at the hospital. 

“Can I come in?” Jensen asks with incredible restraint. When Jared summons him inside, he pats himself in the back for playing it cool so far. “I had a feeling you’d be here. Hope you don’t mind a drop-in.”

Jared rushes to wave off the impromptu visit. “No, not at all, it’s cool. I’m glad you stopped by.”

Jensen lifts a hopeful eyebrow. “Yeah?” 

As he takes a slow step forward, Jared whispers, “Yeah.”

Swallowing hard, Jensen matches Jared’s slow pace to meet up in the middle of the living room. “Patching up the security system?”

“It needed a few upgrades anyway.”

“So you’re sticking around here for a while?”

“I couldn’t leave the place. Too many memories.”

Jensen nods slowly then takes a deep breath. “Right. All those camping trips.”

“And homemade breakfasts,” Jared offers with a small smile. 

“Board games.”

“Trips to the bathroom.”

Jensen suddenly laughs at the memory of Jared carrying him full-body to the toilet so he could piss on that first day he woke up. “That was a really lovely moment,” he jokes. They stand just a few feet apart as they fall silent. Jensen fights for something to say and finally asks, “How’s your leg?”

Patting his upper thigh, Jared grins. “Like new.”

“The good ol’ fibrous fuse.”

“Mmhmm.”

Jensen matches Jared’s grin. “Speaking of … how long should I wear mine?”

Jared blinks a few times then gathers up a huge lung-full of air. “We could take it off right now.”

“Could we?” he murmurs. 

Humming, Jared closes to gap between them and nudges his head against Jared’s, touching temple to temple as his eyes fall shut. His hands find Jensen’s hips then Jensen rests his hands on Jared’s upper arms. “It’d be my pleasure,” Jared whispers. 

That’s all Jensen needs to hear, the huskiness in Jared’s voice. And to feel the wisp of air against his cheek. He tips up to kiss Jared, pressing in tight and immediately sucking Jared’s lower lip between his own. It’s an immediate shock for Jensen, and maybe Jared as well because they surge into the kiss with wide open mouths and tongues immediately tangling together. 

Jensen moves right into Jared’s body and wraps his arms around Jared’s neck to bring them even closer together as they continue to kiss deeply, languidly. That wet slick of their mouths from his visions a few weeks ago echoes in the room and Jensen’s stomach turns with deep, dark want. 

He reaches right for Jared’s shirt and yanks until Jared moves enough to help him get it off, then they get Jensen’s off as well, tossing them to the ground. He runs his hands all over Jared’s bare back to feel the body heat bleed into his fingers while Jared starts working on Jensen’s jeans. The buttons are free then Jared grabs onto the edges of the fly and tugs as he walks to backwards to the stairs. 

“We really have waste time going up there?” Jensen pants out between kisses.

“I wanna lay you out on my bed.” Jared kisses his softly, leaving a few quick pecks across his cheek and to his hair. “Been thinking about it for a long time,” he growls in Jared’s ear. 

“Okay, okay, yeah,” he breathes out. “Lead the way.”

Jared kisses him again before sliding his fingers between Jensen’s and pulling him up the stairs. They get back to making out as they move down the hallway, into Jared’s large master bedroom, and onto the spacious king bed. Jensen falls onto the bed with Jared falling on top of him. They rock their hips together with too much denim between them, so Jensen goes for Jared’s fly. 

They separate long enough to lose everything else they’re wearing then settle in the middle the comforter with another round of patient, deep kisses. Now Jensen relives his vision of their bare skin sliding together, hands reaching for every inch on each other’s bodies, and he finally wraps his hand around Jared’s dick to begin stroking at the same pace as their tongues slipping around. 

“I wanna fuck you,” Jared murmurs. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Jensen agrees, meeting Jared’s eyes. 

Jared drops his head down to Jensen’s as he catches his breath then closes his eyes. “God, you’re too perfect.”

Dragging his hands down Jared’s sculpted chest, Jensen chuckles and savors the ripple between each muscle. “Pot calling kettle black.”

In a brief pause of action, Jared reaches into his bed stand for lube and Jensen palms the fibrous fuse over Jared’s thigh. The fabric is just like his own, blue weave wound tightly around the muscles, but he finds something more sensual in holding his hands around Jared’s band. Around the spot where he’d been shot but has easily healed with the technology. Jared’s technology, the very medical wonder he created, because Jared is a fucking genius.

Jensen clears his throat with a small laugh. “Is it weird that I’m turned on that you created this?”

Jared comes back to hover over Jensen and smiles. “Only if it’s weird that I’m turned on you still have yours on.” He reaches down to touch the band around Jensen’s calf and sits back to kiss along the weave. Continuing north, he kisses and nibbles along Jensen’s knee, then inside of his thigh then high, high, high up near his dick. Jared drops lower and licks as low as he can, flickering at the edge of Jensen’s hole.

A whine seeps from Jensen’s mouth. “Okay, fuck, that’s even hotter.”

Jared transitions quickly to the lube and rubs along Jensen’s hole. He presses his index and middle fingers against the ring and finally gets one inside. Watching his work, Jared slips his middle finger to the first knuckle then pulls back, in then out at a steady pace and Jensen pants and writhes on the comforter to get even more inside. 

Jensen clamps a hand around Jared’s forearm and guides him a little faster, just a bit deeper, to stretch as soon as possible. He fights against the painful push, yet relishes it all the same because it’s Jared working him open and he wants nothing more at this very moment than to have him fully inside. 

“You ready?” Jared asks with two fingers steadily moving in and out. 

“You?” Jensen questions, as if confirming this is really going to happen after he’s thought about it for two long weeks.

“What’s more than ready?” He chuckles then removes his fingers, leaving Jensen’s muscles trembling from the loss. 

When Jared moves in with his dick nudging his hole, Jensen holds his breath and watches the creases in Jared’s forehead, the bulk of his biceps straining with his slow, careful movements. Jensen releases his breath only to take another deep one as Jared pushes in further, unhurried inch by inch. There’s a deep ache where Jared fits far inside. Then it’s quickly forgotten when Jared leans in to kiss slow and easy again as he lets Jensen adjust. Jensen bends his knees up against Jared’s sides and holds onto his shoulders with Jared’s first real movement back then in. 

It doesn’t take long with all of their pent-up energy, the slow burn they lived with for three long days cooped up in the cabin, capped off by two weeks separated. Jared is sliding easily back and forth with whiny pants in Jensen’s ear. His voice pitches high as he cants his hips faster, slapping skin against Jensen’s and Jensen feels Jared reaching further inside him, both physically and emotionally, as they run head-first to their orgasms. 

Jared bites into Jensen’s shoulder as he comes, and the shock of pain sparks Jensen to fist himself until he’s coming shortly after. As they catch their breath, Jared stays slumped against Jensen, his head tucked into the nook of Jensen’s shoulder. He drops a few soft kisses along the tender skin he’d bitten into just while Jensen runs his hands up and down Jared’s back, fingers tracing the knobs of his spine. 

“We’re gonna get sticky soon,” Jared mumbles into Jensen’s skin.

Jensen blows out a long sigh. “I don’t think I can move.” 

Jared shifts up to look at him and offer, “I can help you into the shower?”

“How come you never offered that before?” Jensen lifts and playful eyebrow. “When I couldn’t walk and all that?”

“I was being a gentleman.”

“And now?”

“You hungry?”

Jensen furrows his brow. “I guess?”

Jared sets his lips to Jensen’s and says, “A gentleman always cooks breakfast.”

Fond memories of pancakes and dressed up hash browns immediately warm Jensen from the inside out. He hums and kisses Jared sweetly. “Yes, you do.”

 

\--- 

 

Despite all their great ideas, they spend the rest of the day in bed, going long into the evening with a large LED TV posted on the wall keeping them company when they’re not wrapped up in each other. 

Jensen extends his stay through the week before they head back into the city for a shopping trip to grab some clothes, and extraneous items Jared insists they need. Like a modem, router, and a number of wi-fi accessories, or else Jensen would quickly grow bored. 

In the middle of the electronics store it hits Jensen that he hasn’t had a single vision since he was first holed up in Jared’s cabin. His mind is full of all sorts of grandiose ideas for the future, and like those last visions, they all star Jared. 

This time, it’s about spending time at the cabin, making Jared smile, and carving out a spot together. 

He thinks maybe his visions were always bringing him closer to Jared. And now he’s able to make the rest of the journey on his own.  
  



End file.
